I blow out a breath and walk over to the empty swing set. I take a seat in one of the swings and place Emmy on my lap, facing out. I kick the ground and give the swing a little push, watching as my mother takes a seat in the swing next to us.

“Lily.” My mother is looking at me with concern. “Just tell me what happened.”

I know Emerson is only one and can’t understand me yet, but it still makes me uncomfortable to talk about her father in her presence. I’m convinced babies and toddlers can sense moods, even if they can’t understand what you’re saying.

I attempt to explain my situation without mentioning names. “I’m sort of seeing someone?” That confession comes out like a question because we haven’t made it official, but I don’t think Atlas and I have to put a label on it to know where this is headed.

“Really? Who?”

I shake my head. I’m not about to tell her it’s Atlas, even though she probably wouldn’t know who I was talking about. She saw him twice when I was younger, and we never once spoke about him. And if she does remember him, I’m sure she doesn’t want to, considering her husband put him in the hospital.

There may come a day when I officially introduce Atlas to my mother, and I don’t want her to know him from my past or she might feel mortified.

“Just someone I met. It’s early. But…” I sigh and kick the ground again to give us another small push. “Ryle found out, and he isn’t happy.”

My mother winces, like she knows all too well what he isn’t happy implies.

“He came by this morning, and his reaction was scary. I panicked, thinking he was going to show up at your place to get her, so I didn’t want you to be home.”

“What did he do?”

I shake my head. “I’m not hurt. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen that side of him, so I’m a little shaken, but I’m okay.” I kiss Emmy on top of her head. I’m surprised to feel a tear skating down my cheek, so I quickly wipe it away. “I just don’t know what to do about his visits now. I almost wish something would have happened so I could have reported him this time. But then I feel like an awful mother for thinking that way about her father.”

My mother reaches over and squeezes my hand. It makes my swing come to a still, so I twist until we’re facing her. “No matter what you decide to do, you are not an awful mother. Precisely the opposite.” She releases my hand and grips the chains, staring at Emmy. “I admire the choices you’ve made for her. Sometimes I get sad that I couldn’t be that strong for you.”

I immediately shake my head. “You can’t compare our situations, Mom. I had a lot of support that enabled me to make the choice I made. You had no one.”