Paul’s hand on my arm is soft and clammy. He has a weak grip, like a little boy’s. At least now I know where Bo got it from. I hate that Paul seems to think his lame house is too good for me. I want to stay and eat dessert with the family, with his beautiful daughter. I just barely glimpsed his wife, but I can tell she is bland. I can’t believe two bland people gave birth to someone so stunning. She looks like Winona Ryder, but with blue eyes.

“What’s going on?” Paul asks.

“What’s going on?” I say back in a mocking tone. I am pissed. I pull a cigarette from my bag. “What’s going on is that you stole my son.” I light my cigarette. “My son that I raised, single-handedly, without your help.”

“Do you mind not smoking?” Paul asks.

“We’re outside,” I say.

“On my property.”

“Why are you being such a dick?” I asked. “I am the one who should be angry right now. Not you.” This is always happening to me.

“Let’s go on the sidewalk,” he says, ushering me across the lawn.

“Get your clammy hands off me.” I pull my arm away but walk to the sidewalk nonetheless. I don’t want to be “crazy Dawn.” My plan was to be calm and collected. But I was so nervous I stole a bottle of Jose Cuervo for the bus ride, and, well, here we are. When I reach the sidewalk, I inhale and look back toward the house. I see Paul’s beautiful daughter peeking out the door. When she sees me, she ducks behind the door. I want to know more about her.

“I understand why you’re upset,” Paul says. He has kind eyes, although not as magical as his daughter’s.

“Thank you,” I say.

“It’s a weird situation,” he says. “I probably should have contacted you before seeing Bo, but I didn’t have your contact information.”

I am glad he is acknowledging this.

“I probably didn’t handle it the best way,” he says.

I say nothing, just drag and look back toward the house. I can’t see Paul’s daughter, but I see her hair—jet black and shiny, sort of like Bo’s. I realize for the first time that she is Bo’s sister. As a kid, Bo used to beg me for a sibling, and frankly I would have loved to give him one, but I didn’t have the money. And it turns out he had a sister all along, and— thanks to my lies—he accidentally slept with her. I’ve really been the worst mom.

“I just want you to know that I have absolutely no desire to replace you in any way,” Paul says. “I’m so sorry for how I handled this. We could get coffee soon and talk.”