Page 17 of That One Heartbreak

“I have to go,” Kate said. “I need to open the library. I just wanted to stop and say thanks and… you didn’t have to. You don’t have to.”

“I know that.”

“Okay then.” She shot him the most fleeting of smiles. And yet it felt like he’d just won the lottery. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

Yeah, she would.

It wasn’t until just before lunch that she finally listened to her mom’s voicemail. Mostly because they’d had a mother and toddler group come in this morning, and she’d had to get her full quota of cute sticky baby hugs, as she read them a story about a cat who lost his mittens.

One of the little boys had taken a liking to her, and had kissed her cheek constantly as she read, much to his mom’s embarrassment.

But truth be told, she loved it. She missed her own kids being little. Even Addy, at six, felt grown up compared to these little ones.

It made her heart hurt a little to think about how fast her own children were growing.

But now the library was quiet, and from experience she knew it would be until school was out and the older kids wandered in to do their homework or find a new book to read, followed by the younger kids and their caregivers who would do anything to keep them amused until dinner.

It wasn’t a surprise that her mom’s message was every bit as un-urgent as she thought it would be.

She put the phone on the counter, listening to her mom’s breathless explanation of how her best friend’s niece was having Botox injections. And had Kate ever thought about it, because apparently it was best to start in your early thirties, and since she was already in her mid-thirties she’d be playing catch up.

Pressing delete had never felt so satisfying. She’d call her mom over the weekend, the way she always did. And she didn’t need Botox, did she?

She turned on the camera of her phone and stared at her reflection. Sure, she had a few extra wrinkles. But who didn’t? She wasn’t a kid anymore.

Wait. Was that a gray hair?

Before she could look any closer, her phone started to ring again. She almost expected to see her mom’s name on the screen, but instead it was James’.

So of course she answered.

“Hey honey, is everything okay?”

“Hi, Mom. One of my friends asked if I want to sleep over tonight. Is that okay? I’ll head home after school and pick my things up then go straight to his.”

“What friend?” she asked.

“Cal.”

“Do I know him?” she asked. There was a time when she knew all of his friends. All of their parents, too. They’d call each other up, make plans for playdates, stay and gossip while the kids played on the swing set or – when it was raining – tried to beat each other playing video games.

And then he’d gone to middle school. The students were bussed in from all around, and his friends were more scattered.

Now that he was at high school she barely knew any of the kids he interacted with. And James had left a friend group last year, anyway. She never got to the details of it, but she long since suspected it was some kind of grief response.

“He’s new,” James told her. “It’s Friday night and I don’t have any homework. So can I go?”

“Where does he live?”

James let out a little sigh. “Near school.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I pack up your things and bring them to you?” she asked him. Because yes, she found it hard to let her eldest go. She also didn’t like the idea of him spending the night with people she hadn’t met. How the hell she’d deal with him going to college, she didn’t know. But she’d face that problem when it got here.

“It’s fine. You don’t get off work until five. I’ll get my stuff and head out. Ethan and Addy are in after-school club, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Just send me the address. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

“I’ll catch a ride home.”

---