We were inseparable when we were kids. And we thought it would always be like that—Tim especially. When we were six or seven, he used to talk about the future in a way that always included me. He’d say things like, When we get married, we should get a big house with five bedrooms. Sometimes I got the feeling he never stopped thinking that way—he just stopped saying it out loud.

“Brooke,” he says quietly, “how old is Josh?”

I shut my eyes for a moment, hoping maybe when I open them, this will all be a really awkward dream. Then I open my eyes again.

Nope. Not a dream.

“He’s ten,” I say.

“Ten?” Tim’s hand is shaking as he runs it through his hair. “He’s ten years old?”

“Right.”

“So does that mean Shane is…?”

He doesn’t need to finish the question. We both know what he’s thinking. I may as well tell him the truth. He deserves that.

“Yes,” I say. “He is.”

“Oh God.” Tim looks like he’s going to be sick. “I had no idea that you…”

“Well, now you know why I left town.”

“Yeah, but…” He stares at the door to my house. “Does Josh know who his father is?”

“No. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Does Shane know?”

I shake my head vigorously. “No. No way.”

Tim looks again at the door of my house, his eyes growing wilder by the second. “Christ, he even looks like Shane.”

“I know.” I bite my lip. “He does look like him, but he’s not anything like Shane. He’s a really good kid.”

“Oh God.”

His reaction is about what I expected it to be. Tim never liked Shane, even before all the terrible things he did. I should have known he would react this way. But it’s still hard to watch. Sometimes people do exactly what you think they’re going to do, and they still manage to disappoint you.

“Look…” Tim takes a step back. “I think maybe I should go. This was… a bad idea.”

He’s not thinking anymore about how when we’re married, we’re going to build a giant two-story dog house in the backyard. Which is fine. A dog house that big wasn’t practical, anyway.

Tim is about to take off when Josh bursts out of the house. He looks slightly breathless, and his lips are covered in cookie crumbs. “Mom!” he says. “The kitchen sink is broken.”

Oh, great. This evening is just getting better and better. “Are you sure?”

Josh nods solemnly. “Yeah. When I turn the water on, it only comes out slow or really fast and I got water all over me!”