Page 26 of Summer After Summer

“What are you sorry about? We all owe a lot to Fred, from what I’ve been hearing.”

“Is that why you wanted to babysit the kids?”

“I’ve told you and told you,” Sophie says, coming into the room in a pink column dress with white piping. “It’s not babysitting when it’s your family.”

“I think that only applies to husbands,” I say. “Is that one of Mom’s?”

She twirls for me. “You like?”

“It looks great. Maybe a bit much for a garden party, but …”

“That’s what I told her,” Colin says. “But does she listen?”

Sophie gives him a kiss. I look away, tears in my eyes.

I had this. I had this, and now it’s gone. “You guys are going to be late.”

“She’s right, Colin. Olivia, the kids’ food is in the fridge, and I left instructions for bedtime.”

“I throw them chips and let them stay up as late as they want, right?”

“She’s kidding, Soph.”

Sophie puts on a bright, brave smile. “I know that. Love you. Boys! Be good for Aunt Olivia!”

“Okay!”

“And Junior’s medication is here.” She points to the cupboard next to the fridge. “If he’s rubbing on his ear a lot, text me.”

“Go—have fun.”

They rush out in a trail of perfume and cologne, and I wander into the kitchen, happy that I’ll be able to eat dinner at a more reasonable hour. Dinner at eight sounds luxurious when you have cocktails and nibbles at five, but when you’re a teacher and you have to be in bed at nine because otherwise you’re exhausted the next day, it’s much less appealing.

Wes had trouble understanding that, and eventually he stopped asking me to join him for his after-work things. Another sign I should’ve paid attention to. Back then, I was just grateful for the extra sleep.

I pull some things together for dinner and make organic mac and cheese for the kids, with peas in it for their vegetables, and they deign to spend ten minutes with me while they wolf it down before they disappear back into the den. Sophie texts me once to ask after them, and I assure her that everything’s okay. Then I sink into the massive couch in the great room, with the intention of catching up on something on TV, but instead I fall asleep, all the bad nights and too much emotion catching up with me.

When I wake up, Colin Junior and Teddy are jumping on the couch. Jumping on me.

“Mommy and Daddy are home!” Colin Junior says.

“And we’re not in bed!” Teddy adds, wagging his finger at me like his grandmother.

I sit up, feeling panicked. I’m the worst aunt in the world. Anything could’ve happened to the kids while I was sleeping. But instead, they’re fine, good enough to mock me for dereliction of duty.

“Okay, let’s scatter. Come on!”

They giggle and I grab each of them by one hand, rushing them out of the living room and down a long hall to their wing of the house. They share a bedroom, done up in nautical blue and white, and they whip off their clothes and jump into their pajamas, leaving me to pick up after them. I shove their clothes into the hamper as they clamber into bed. I can hear the front door opening, the laughter of more than just Sophie and William. Guests. Great.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” Teddy says. At six, he’s the responsible one, if a pack of wolves can have a responsible one.

“You’re right. Bathroom, quick.”

They jump up and make fast work of their teeth, then I shoo them back into bed and tuck each of them in quickly.

“You’re going to be in trou … ble,” Colin Junior says.

“Not if we don’t tell.”

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