Page 40 of The Perfect Mistake

Ten minutes later, we’ve tied a blanket around his neck to create a makeshift cape again. He whizzes up and down the hallways shortly after, and his cape billows behind his little frame. I’m ninety-nine percent sure there’s homework in his backpack, but I’ll look at that later.

Sam grins as he swoops past me. “I’m flying!”

“I can see that,” I say and pretend to flap my wings. “I’m a bird you’re zooming past.”

“A pigeon,” he says.

I make pigeon noises and watch his eyes light up in delight. It’s a priceless expression.

“What superpowers do you have?”

“All of them!” he says. “I’m superfast and superstrong. I can fly. And… and…”

“Read minds?” I ask. “Pass through walls?”

“Yes! Both.”

I make a few more pigeon noises as he zips by me. “And where does the superhero live?”

Sam falters briefly before heading toward his father’s bedroom. He pushes the door open. “On top of a skyscraper!”

He climbs onto the giant king-size bed at the center of Alec’s room. I stall in the doorway. Maybe we shouldn’t be in here. But I can’t stop myself from looking in, and… it’s a large room. The walls are painted soft gray, the floors are the same mahogany hardwood as the rest of the apartment. Thick curtains bookend a large window that overlooks Central Park and the buildings across it. An open door leads into a walk-in closet, and I spot neatly pressed shirts hanging in color-coordinated rows.

The bed has a dark-gray comforter. Large white pillows. Nightstand on either side but only one looks used. I see a book lying on it. A pair of reading glasses. A glass of water.

Sam jumps up and down on his dad’s bed. “I’m flying,” he says. “Look, look.”

“I’m looking,” I respond.

He jumps a few more times before flopping down on his back. The covers are mussed around him, and the cape forms a halo.

He turns to look out at the window. “I’m looking for bad guys,” he declares. “They can’t hide from me.”

That makes me smile. “No, they can’t. Do you see any?”

He makes a show of narrowing his eyes. “No. The city is safe. Today.”

We continue playing superheroes for a while longer, chasing imaginary villains and saving the day. But it doesn’t take long for Sam’s energy to wane. He has the attention span of the five-year-old he is, and won’t continue with a game a second longer after it stops being fun.

We move on to his other toys, and then homework, and by the time we’ve finished that, Willa’s done practicing the piano. We’re halfway through preparing for dinner when their father arrives home.

My stomach clenches at the sound of the front door opening. It’s done that for the past several days. It’s like my days both end and start when he arrives home.

The kids rush out to say hello. Well, Sam does. Willa follows suit with a faint frown on her face, the complete opposite of her usual sunny mood when Alec is around. She adores her father—that much has been obvious to me since the beginning.

There’s a murmured conversation in the hallway. Kid voices, and Alec’s deep, steady one in return. They eat shortly after, and from what I overhear, it’s the usual mix of “kid talk.” Alec listens to everything they say. He always does at the dinner table, giving them both space to talk about their days.

It all erupts after dinner. Alec’s put Sam to bed, but when he goes into Willa’s room, I can hear her annoyance all the way out in the living room where I’m clearing away Sam’s toys. They all have to go back to the playroom at the end of the day.

“We never go to anything!” Willa says. “Everyone will be there. All of my friends!”

I pause, a stuffed dinosaur in hand. This sounds personal. Alec’s response is lost; all I can hear is a steady mumbling of his voice.

“No! It’s… it’s… they sent out invitations weeks ago!” Her raised voice quivers. I leave Sam’s toys in the basket and walk quietly across the penthouse to my own quarters. I don’t come out again until it’s a bit past 9 p.m. Both kids must be asleep by now, and the apartment is quiet. Katja has long since left.

I don’t know where Alec is.

I grab a cup of tea and curl up on the giant couch in the living room. Weeks of living here, and I still haven’t seen anyone use it but me in the evenings. Alec never has guests over.

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