It was an observation too old for an eight-year-old boy, but it was also true.

We had built a joyful life in the absence of someone who should have been part of it.

That happiness did not prove we hadn’t been hurt, and it didn’t mean there was no room for a new relationship.

It simply meant we had never been waiting in an empty life for someone to give it meaning.

The boys went to bed after we reached Boise.

I hung four wet coats by the back door, wiped frosting from Liam’s sleeve, and picked a stray cookie crumb from Mason’s hair.