I had once thought a successful home meant anticipating Garrett’s mood well enough that nothing disturbed him.

Now a successful evening could include two crying babies, an unfinished email, and someone offering to wash the cups while I sat down.

I had not become invulnerable.

I could still be frightened by a message or exhausted by an ordinary morning.

I could still hear his old criticisms when I made a mistake.

I also knew whose number to call, what question to ask, and which decision belonged to me.

Harper and Owen continued becoming themselves, with no interest in the agreement that had tried to price one of them out of a family.