“What were you guys talking about before I got here?” Stacey asks. She opens her purse and pulls out a blank sheet of paper with some crayons rolled up inside. She opens it for Ben, who immediately starts drawing. Okay, so she’s some kind of supermom. Good for her.

“Just about how upset Tyson was that he missed the wedding,” Dominic says, and I choke on the sandwich. He reaches over and uses his baby-sized hands to swat at my back, and it’s like getting hit by a car. I glare at him even as I try to breathe. I’m finally able to swallow around the sandwich.

“Sorry,” I say. “Just choked a bit.”

“The wedding?” Stacey asks. “It did seem a bit odd not to have you there. Everything else about Dom’s life involved you, so it felt a little empty when you weren’t there.”

Master of manipulation, she is. I feel like the world’s biggest asshole. “School… stuff,” I stammer. “Had… stuff… school.”

She nods. “Of course, we understand. It did come up suddenly. Dom didn’t even know I’d sent out the invitations until people started to RSVP. Had to get the show on the road.” She nods toward Ben.

I knew it. And now that it’s been confirmed… well. Okay. It doesn’t change a thing. Except that maybe she man-trapped him.

“But that’s in the past,” she says cheerfully. “No need to rehash old details, right?”

“Right,” Dom agrees. “No need to rehash old details.”

“How’s New Hampshire?” she asks.

I shrug. “Okay, I guess. It’s… humid.”

“Decided on a major yet?”

“No. I’m… still deciding.” And while I’m deciding, I do believe I’m getting dangerously close to getting kicked out altogether. You see, they don’t like it when you just float through your classes, especially when you’re there on full academic scholarship. Apparently, I’m not “living up to my potential.” And I was stoned more often than not. So, still deciding.

She nods, as if this is perfectly acceptable for someone of my intellect who has already been at school for almost four years, deciding on major after major only to panic and switch yet again. But she can’t know that. Unless she knows more than she’s saying. “You’ve got plenty of time. After Ben was diagnosed, I decided to go back to school with a focus on special education. It’s a bit different than teaching eighth graders, but it’s worth it.”

Ah, goddammit. She’s supermom and saintly? Son of a bitch. “That’s… amazing,” I say begrudgingly. Because it really is.

“You play with the hand you’re dealt,” she says, touching her son’s hair lightly. “And you make the most of what you have.”

I’m such a jerk. I need to get out of here. “Yeah. Look, I’ll get out of your hair now. You just got home and probably want to spend time with Dom and Ben. I didn’t mean to show up out of the blue. Hell, I didn’t mean to show up at all, but Corey forced me, and then I heard Ben laughing and then he drew a bear and we had peanut butter and now I can’t seem to stop talking, so I’m pretty much done.”