Some months later, Elena began allowing Alex to pick the children up on select Saturdays, and for the first, he prepared a hyper-detailed color-coded schedule, four packed backpacks, four labeled water bottles, and a printed itinerary.

Elena looked at the paper and nearly laughed.

“You’re still making spreadsheets for everything,” she said.

And Alex, hearing it, crumpled the itinerary and dropped it in the trash.

“I can improvise,” he said.

“Don’t get crazy,” she smiled.

“Just don’t lose the allergy medicine.” And for the first time in six years, the two of them shared a genuine, easy joke, without the ghosts of everything between them crowding into the room.

Chapter 18 — That’s Biology, Mom