I sit down, and she lightly sits down next to me, her ass almost off the edge of the couch. “You know I live here, right?”

“I know,” she says, looking down at her fingers and then up again. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is. Except I make a mess, too, and the cleaning lady comes in and makes it clean,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “You have to also know that my nieces and nephews sometime come and visit.” She just looks at me. “They are kids, and they touch things. Sometimes, more than once, they have broken little knickknacks here and there.” I take a deep breath. “I also didn’t care as long as they weren’t hurt. I live here, but it’s not a museum. I don’t want you to walk on eggshells when you’re here.” I smile at her. “Hopefully, you’ll want to be here a lot.”

“It’s just that …” she starts, and I hold up my hand.

“They’re just things,” I say. “Things that are pretty but can be replaced. But you here, sitting on that couch eating chips …” I smile, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I would buy ten couches just to see that.”

“Is the food almost done?” Dylan asks, coming into the room. “I’m starving.”

I laugh when Caroline smiles. “Take off your shoes, curl up on the couch, and turn on the TV.” I kiss her lips. “I’m going to cook.”

“I want to help you,” she says to me. “We can do it together.”

“That sounds even better than just me cooking,” I say, taking her hand in mine and going to the kitchen.

Dylan climbs on a stool. “Is this a present?” he asks, picking it up and shaking the box.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s your mom’s.”

His eyes open wide as Caroline stops walking and looks at him. “Mom, you have a present. Can I open it?”

“It’s not mine,” she says, but Dylan is already ripping the tape open and reaching in and pulling out the small white box.

“It’s a phone,” he says, handing it to Caroline who stares at the box.

“You bought me a phone?” She looks at me. “I have a phone.”

“Yeah, but yours is always not working,” Dylan says, and she just turns to him.

“That’s enough,” she says, and he just shrugs.

“I’m not taking this phone,” she says, handing it back to me.

“Fine,” I say, putting it down. “I’ll give it to Dylan then.”

“You will not,” she huffs out. “I don’t want the phone.”

“Okay,” I say, making her think she’s winning this, but if I have to plant it on her without her knowing every single day, then that is what I’m going to do. “I was thinking steak and some salad.”

“Oh, yeah, steak,” Dylan says, throwing his hands in the air.