“Do you think they’re hoping for a boy or a girl, or do they care either way?” he asked, and so it was that he had to make pregnancy small talk with his old friends, feeling the tug of grief like a riptide.

He and Lauren had wanted four. Back when they were unaware of the cruelty of illness and the hubris of that kind of thing . . . as if you could go up to some divine deli counter and just put in your order. We’ll have four kids, please. Two girls, then two boys. All healthy, please. Oh, and could you throw in a Golden retriever?

“Oh, no, it’s six fifty-two!” Sumi exclaimed. “We have to get home for Jeopardy!”

“You can watch it here,” his mom said.

“And get creamed by you and Josh? No, thanks,” Ben said. “A man has to maintain some pride.”

Josh smiled. He and his mother did tend to get every answer right, except in the pop culture categories. With Lauren, they’d been unbeatable as a team. He’d also told Ben he needed to talk to his mom alone.

“I also ate too much and have to get out of these pants,” Sumi added.

“I love you both,” Josh said. “See you soon.”

“What’s on your mind?” his mom asked the second he closed the door. “Was it their new grandchild?”

“No. Did that bother you, though?”

“No,” she lied. “It’s wonderful. Why would it bother me?”

They stared at each other a minute, the subject of children lurking between them. You can talk about your feelings, you know, Lauren would say. Then again, this was his mother. Feelings hadn’t been discussed a lot.

What the hell? “Of course, I’m sad Lauren and I didn’t have kids,” he said.

“Well. That would’ve been irresponsible, given her condition.” She looked at the floor to avoid his eyes. Logic had always been her go-to response for anything. Josh said nothing.

“Do you want dessert?” she asked. “I made an apple cake. Coffee milk?”

“Sure.” She was a better baker than cook.

His mother cut the cake, put a dollop of Cool Whip on the side and cut herself a piece, too, then poured them both coffee milk, Rhode Island’s weirdly delicious state drink. She sat down heavily across from him. She was still a striking woman, his mom, with her blond hair and piercing blue eyes. They had the same nose, the same slight cleft in their chins. Otherwise, he must have been his father’s boy, so to speak. It wasn’t uncommon that, when Josh was a kid, people had assumed Ben was his biological father, given Josh’s straight black hair and dark eyes.

“So what’s up, Joshua?” She always could read him better than anyone else.

Except Lauren.

“Well, Mom . . . I was hoping you could tell me about my father.”