“Why exactly do you need me away from Noah’s birthday?”

He stood there for several seconds.

“Because I need the morning to go smoothly.”

Then he walked away.

I stayed with my water glass in my hand.

I had spent twelve years learning which questions could be asked at which table, in which voice, and at what cost.

Usually I called that keeping the peace.

Sometimes there had been genuine peace: sleepy breakfasts, a drive with no destination, Ethan carrying Noah on his shoulders before Noah became too heavy.