And here was the hard part of what Cora had to do. She couldn’t make any decisions for him. She didn’t know what the best thing for Jack was. “I know, hon.”

“I don’t think I have my shit together enough to have a kid.” His eyes remained glued on his soup as he moved the spoon around the liquid listlessly.

“There are a lot of resources out there to help you, and I’d be here to help you as much as I can too.”

He nodded, but Cora had the feeling he wasn’t taking a lot of this in, but rather just trying to get his thoughts out. “If I gave the baby up,” he said, wincing, with his voice cracking over the last word, “well, how would I know that the people who adopt it would be good people? Like, really, I mean.”

Cora hesitated. How was she supposed to answer that? “Well, I think you can organise to get some more information from the adoption agency about them. See what kind of feeling you get in your gut.”

“I still won’t know.” For a moment, he looked like he was biting back words, chewing on them before they spat themselves out. “What if they’re the kind that push their kids into boxes it takes them years to realise they can get out of?”

Cora held her breath for a second and leant forward. How could you know that? “Well…” She bit the inside of her cheek as she thought. “Why don’t we think of some questions to ask them, if that’s the decision you end up going with?”

“Questions?” Finally, his eyes flicked up to meet hers.

“Yeah. Ones that would help you know what kind of parents they would be. The agency can pass them on, and you can read their answers.”

Slowly, he sat up straighter. “Like…if the baby’s a boy and wants to dress up as a princess, what would your reaction be?”

“Exactly. Or if your little girl says she’s going to be an astronaut, is your reaction to a) tell her she’s crazy or b)—”

“Take her outside to learn the stars at night?” Jack was smiling now, so new to Cora’s eyes she wanted to capture that look forever. “Okay. Do you have paper?”

The rest was easy. With a notebook Cora gave him, they brainstormed questions Jack would be able to ask. After they thought of more than twenty, he sat tapping his pen against the paper, staring at them. “But, Cora.” He looked up, his voice tight. “How will I know they would love the baby? Be nice to it? Support it?”

Resting her hand on his arm, she squeezed it gently. “You’ll know.”

Jack tore the paper out and stuffed it in his pocket. “Thanks.”