Hosting the party in our backyard had sounded like a great idea. But soon, it was nothing but loud music, crowded conversations, and kids running everywhere.
And right in the middle of it all was Brad.
Forty suited him far too well.
I stood near the patio door holding napkins and my phone, catching myself staring at him like I still couldn’t believe he was mine. Even after all these years, I felt lucky.
I was so naive.
Someone asked about the dip. A child started crying. Then my son, Will, darted past me and slid under a table with a cake pop.
“Will, honey, we don’t throw cake pops.”
“I wasn’t!” he shouted—which usually meant he had, or was about to.
I glanced back at Brad. He was smiling at something Ellie said.
Ellie—my best friend since second grade. Family, in every way except blood.
“Hey, where should I put the drinks?” someone asked.
“On the side table. No, the other one—thanks.”
I moved through the party, juggling everything, proud I’d pulled it off, while silently promising never to host something this big again.
Ellie slipped beside me. “You’re doing too much.”
I laughed. “I always do.”
“I could’ve helped more.”
“You already did a lot.”
For a moment, I felt grateful she was there.
Then Will screamed from under a table.
Later, I saw him crawling out, grass-stained and filthy, like a cheerful little raccoon.
“Oh my God,” I said, grabbing his wrist. “Come here.”
“Mommy, no!” he laughed.
“We are not cutting the cake with you like this.”
“But I’m playing.”
“You can play after.”
I took him inside, sat him by the sink, and started washing his hands.
He grinned up at me.
“What’s so funny?”
His eyes sparkled. “Aunt Ellie has Dad.”
I paused. “Aunt Ellie has… what?”
“I saw it when I was playing.”
“Saw what?”
“Come. I show you.”
Kids say strange things sometimes.
This wasn’t one of those times.
He dragged me outside and pointed straight at Ellie.
“Mom,” he said loudly, “Dad’s there.”
Ellie looked up and laughed.
I laughed too. “Silly.”
But Will didn’t laugh. He kept pointing, serious now.
I followed his finger.
Not at her face.
Lower.
At her back.
Ellie leaned forward to grab her drink, and her shirt shifted just enough.
I saw it.
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