We came back to the house at nightfall to pack, and I found his ex-wife already settled comfortably into my living room.

Tristan lay stretched along the sofa with a white plastic splint strapped around his leg.

Zachary and his ex-wife sat on either side of him like a matched pair of devoted parents.

From the doorway, the three of them made a portrait of a family — and Chloe and I, standing there with our coats still on, were plainly the intruders in it.

I stood in that doorway a moment longer than I needed to, taking in the tableau, and something in me went very quiet and very clear.