When Paige and Ryan came down, all three of her kids led her into the kitchen. “Dad made dinner,” Ryan said. “We’re supposed to let you relax.” He escorted her past the kitchen and into the dining room, where the table was already set for five. With the Easter tablecloth and paper-towel napkins folded beneath the silverware.

“This is quite the reception,” Eileen said as Cameron pulled out a chair for her and Paige delivered her a glass of red wine. “And the house is so clean,” she noticed.

“Dad said you shouldn’t have to come home to a pigsty and we had to help him clean up,” Cameron confessed.

“Well, you did a great job. It’s like a maid came.” She smiled. “Where is your father?” she asked before taking a small sip of her wine.

“He just ran to the store,” Paige said. “But he said he’d only be a minute and to go ahead and get started.”

Eileen’s chest hurt, but she smiled anyway. “Okay, let’s eat then.”

They were halfway through their plates of lasagna when Eileen heard the door to the garage close. Her heart beat hard against her chest, and her arms and legs felt weak. She didn’t want to do this, face him, feel this way. She tried to swallow her bite of noodles, cheese, and marinara sauce, but it stopped halfway down her throat. Eileen grabbed her glass of wine and took a large drink to wash it down.

“You’re home!” Eric said, entering the room with his arms wide and a large bouquet of flowers wrapped in cellophane from the grocery store.

“Yes,” Eileen said, swallowing hard one more time and wiping her mouth on her paper towel.

He was standing right next to her seat, his arms still wide. After a few seconds, she realized he was waiting for her to stand up and hug him. Her kids stared at her, waiting for the normal response.

Eileen stood up and managed to hug Eric while evading eye contact. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he whispered in her ear before kissing the side of her head and releasing her.

Eileen nodded and sat back down as Eric rounded the room to his spot at the head of the table. The kids finished off their meals, being obviously careful to behave, not fight or bicker. Each one picked up their own plate, carried it into the kitchen, rinsed it, and put it in the dishwasher without her saying a word.

“Can I take your plate?” Ryan asked her.

She smiled at him. “Thank you, yes.” It wouldn’t last more than a week before they’d go back to their normal, id-driven little selves, but she’d ride the sympathy wave while it lasted.

“And we’ll get your bags from the car,” Paige added. “Come on,” she directed her brothers, who, amazingly, didn’t argue with her.