“It is?”

“No.”

“Oh.” His fingers glide across the controller in his hands—the one with the green cover that I paid an extraordinary amount for at Christmastime because it was the one thing he wanted. “Darn it! I died.”

“See? Even the game knows it’s bedtime, kiddo.”

He rolls his eyes and switches off the game.

“Did you shower after we got home?” I give him a quick once-over because I know he’ll lie to me. Coats and showers are his nemeses. “Nope. You didn’t. Same clothes.”

“Ugh.”

“Your shower is going to give you another twenty minutes. Now, up.” I pat the underside of his arm to encourage him to stand. “Go shower and brush your teeth.”

Ethan stands. The top of his head is nearly level with mine. He looks into my eyes, and for a split, fleeting second, I see the little cherub face that used to look up at me in a milk coma.

Time flies.

“Go,” I say, ruffling his hair again before heading for the door. “I’ll be downstairs with Val if you need anything. Come tell me good night before you go to bed.”

“’Kay.”

I make a left in the hallway, and he turns right toward the bathroom.

My feet sink into the carpet as I make my way down the steps. A thin layer of dust bunnies is starting to accumulate against the wall, and I make a mental note to run the vacuum at some point before Monday. I’m not even sure when I ran the vacuum last. That’s a problem.

I get to the bottom of the stairs and find Val on the sofa. A bowl of chips rests against her side. Her phone is in her hand.

She looks up as I come into the room and watches me collapse into the recliner by the window.

“Have you bothered to check out Cole on social media?” she asks.

Really, Val?

I sigh. “No, I have not.”

“Well, you should. I’m not sure if he posts these things as thirst traps—like if that’s the actual point—or if he’s really trying to give legitimate baseball advice, because I don’t know a damn thing about baseball. But I’ll tell you what—if this is what baseball is, I’m in. Big fan. Let’s go get some Cracker Jacks or whatever they say in that song.”

I slip my hands under my butt to keep from reaching for the phone.

“Good,” I say to Val. “You can be the baseball-loving pseudo–Aunt Val when Ethan starts baseball this week.”

She furrows her brows. “Ethan is playing baseball? I thought the kid turned into sand if exposed to fresh air and sunlight.”

I roll my eyes. “Jared signed him up.”

“Oh.” She takes a chip and crunches it in her mouth. “And Ethan is going along with this without a fight? Remember when you tried to sign him up for . . . what was it?”

“Basketball.”

“Right. And he had a meltdown because he was going to be a professional video gamer when he grew up, and you were sucking his life force out of his soul or something equally dramatic.” She grins. “I have no idea where he got the dramatics.”