Tyra had his grandbaby tucked in her arm, but she was smiling down at Travis, who was standing on his pudgy little kid legs and pounding on her thigh.

Elvira got close and swooped him up.

Travis giggled so loud, Tack could hear it.

He felt his lips curl up and he shifted his eyes back in the direction of the dance floor just as Louis sang oh yeah.

Tack walked toward the party, agreeing.

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WALK THROUGH FIRE.

I Never Would

I SHOULD GET a salad.

I should have gone to Whole Foods and hit the salad bar (and thus been able to get a cookie from their bakery, a treat for being so good about getting a salad).

I didn’t go to Whole Foods.

I went to Chipotle.

So, since I was at Chipotle, I should get a bowl, not a burrito.

I had no intention of getting a bowl.

I was going to get a burrito.

Therefore, I was standing in line at Chipotle, trying to decide on pinto or black beans for my burrito, telling myself I was going to have salad for dinner (this was not going to happen, but I was telling myself that, something I did a lot).

And in the coming months, I would wish with all my heart that I’d gone to Whole Foods for the salad (and the cookie).

It was lunchtime. It was busy. There was noise.

But I heard it.

The deep, manly voice coming from ahead of me in the line.

A voice that had matured, was coarser, nearly abrasive, but I knew that voice.

I’d never forget that voice.

“Yeah, I signed the papers. Sent ’em. Not a problem. That’s done,” the voice said.

I stood in line having trouble breathing, my body wanting to move, lean to the side, look forward, see the man attached to the voice, needing that, but I couldn’t seem to make my body do what it was told.

“Not set up yet with a place, don’t matter,” the voice went on. “Got a condo in the mountains for the weekend. Takin’ the girls up there. So I’ll come get ’em like I said, four o’clock, Friday. I’ll have ’em at school on Monday. I’ll sort a place soon’s I can.”

I still couldn’t move, and there was an even bigger reason why then.

Takin’ the girls up there.

I’ll have ’em at school on Monday.

He had children.

Logan had kids.

Plural.

I felt a prickle in my nose as my breathing went unsteady, my heart hammering, my fingers tingling in a painful way, like they’d gone to sleep and were waking up.

The voice kept going.