“Yes. That’s why we got married. And I’m glad we did, sweetheart. Because as difficult as the last few years were, I’d do them all over again just to have you and Keaton. Being your mom is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

She turned on the electric mixer and didn’t say anything else while she beat the frosting. But a few minutes later, as she spread the frosting on top of the marshmallow-covered brownies, she said, “Daddy says he loves me. But I don’t believe him.”

“Oh, Whitney, don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. I don’t believe him anymore. You know what he gave me for Christmas?”

I shook my head. Brett had given the kids their gifts while they were out to dinner with him and Kimmy, and I hadn’t asked for any details.

“The same necklace he got for me last year. The exact same one.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And he sat there telling me how expensive it is, how I need to be sure I take care of it and don’t lose it because it’s so valuable. And I was sitting there looking at him, thinking, Dad, you don’t know jack shit about taking care of things that are valuable.”

I laughed, although it wasn’t funny. “God, Whit. You’re exactly right. And I don’t mean to make light of it, but you are so exactly right. He used to buy me expensive gifts all the time too, when all I really wanted was for him to spend more time with us.”

“It made me so mad,” she said, setting the bowl of frosting aside. “What kind of person is he?”

“Your father isn’t a bad person,” I said, willing myself to be generous. “But he’s always been the kind of guy who thinks he can buy people’s love. His father was the same way. It’s the only way he knows. It makes him feel like a big shot, and that’s what’s important to him.”

“It’s not right.” Her lower lip jutted as she smoothed the layer of frosting.

“No, it isn’t.”

“I feel sorry for that baby they’re having. Because it’s not like he’s ever going to change.”

I took a deep breath. “That’s hard to say. But I hope for the sake of that baby, he learns to love less selfishly.”

“Me too.”

I thought it was a good sign that she had empathy for Brett and Kimmy’s unborn child. Maybe I wasn’t totally fucking up this parenting thing. Grateful for my precocious, resilient, lovely daughter, I grabbed Whitney in a giant bear hug from behind.

“Mom, you’re choking me,” she complained.

“Sorry, honey,” I said, squeezing her tight. “But you’re just so huggable, I couldn’t resist. I love your big heart.”

“Okay, but can you please let me go?”

“Never.”

“Mom!”