“Uh…um…” My face is on fire. “We’re here to pick up Nate’s glasses. He needs to get them fitted.”

I think to myself that I should focus on this woman with all the energy I can muster, but as soon as the redhead looks at the appointment book on the table in front of her, my eyes shift to Jourdan.

She’s not looking at me.

“New pair of glasses?” she asks Nate, bending over to smile at him.

“First pair,” he corrects in the shy whisper he uses with strangers. I’m not sure if every twin set has a shy one. If they do, ours is Nathan.

“Ooooh. A big day,” she says in a bright, cheerful voice. “Are you excited?”

He shrugs, but there’s a smile on his face.

“I think you have a good face for glasses,” she says.

“Yeah?”

Jourdan nods at my son. “You’ve got a dignified look about you. Very handsome. Glasses were made for a face like this.”

Nate turns to look up at me, and I force myself to smile at him. “I agree. What do you say to the nice lady?”

Nate wraps his hands around my wrist like he has all his life when testing out something new like speaking to strangers or blowing out a birthday cake. He reaches for me as if he needs to reassure himself that I’m there and I’ll always be there, and I pull him closer because I am — I will.

“Thank you,” he whispers nervously.

“You’re welcome,” Jourdan says with a bright smile.

“Nathaniel Stewart,” the redhead receptionist says.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, yes. That’s him.”

“Okay. Right this way.”

Jourdan waves at Nate as we pass. I want her to look at me, but she doesn’t.

I’m crushed, but I stomp down my own disappointment. I’m here for Nate. I can be sad later.

The fitting takes barely ten minutes.

I maybe blink once before I’m handing over my credit card to pay the balance on Nate’s glasses. He rushes across the showroom to show Jourdan his new glasses. I pretend not to be trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Do you like them?” she asks. Nate doesn’t respond verbally. “Well, I do. This is a good shape for your face.”

“They’re the same shape as my dad’s.”

My hand hesitates, signing my name on the receipt.

“They look great on him,” she says.

I’m pathetically overwhelmed.

“Here you go.” The redhead hands over a white plastic bag with Nate’s glasses case and a few lens wipes.

“Thanks.”

I take a deep breath before I turn around.

Jourdan’s letting Nate put a pair of glasses on her that are, no exaggeration, half the size of her face. He erupts into adorable giggles once they’re in place.

“What? You don’t like the look?”

Nate laughs with his entire body again.