When we returned home, the birthday party was still going.
Riley and Rex were laughing somewhere in the backyard.
My mother’s car was parked near the curb.
Watson reached for my hand.
“Let me go in first.”
“No,” I said. “You’re coming with me.”
We walked up the porch steps together.
A tall young man stood near the railing, looking like he couldn’t decide whether to knock or disappear.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I left the box and walked away. But I heard them laughing out back, and I couldn’t leave.”
I knew who he was before he said another word.
“Rowan.”
His eyes filled.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you.”
“You don’t have to call me anything yet.”
He looked at Watson.
“Are you angry?”
Watson made a broken sound.
“At you? Never.”
Rowan looked back at me.
“I just needed to know if I was unwanted.”
“No.”
I moved toward him, then stopped myself.
“Can I?”
He nodded.
I touched his cheek with two fingers.
Warm.
Real.
Alive.
“You were wanted every second, my boy.”
Behind us, the patio door slid open.
Mom walked outside carrying a bright gift bag.
“Dawn? Why are you standing out front? I brought the boys their presents.”
Then she saw Rowan.
My mother froze as though she were staring at a ghost.
“Dawn,” she whispered.
I moved between her and my son.
“Which boys, Mom?”
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
“You brought gifts for Riley and Rex,” I said. “But you knew there were three.”
Watson stepped beside me.
“You told us Rowan died.”
Mom tightened her grip around the gift bag.
“Not now. Let’s do this later, when the backyard isn’t crawling with teenagers.”
“No,” I said. “Let’s do it now.”
The noise from the backyard faded.
Riley reached the patio door first.
Rex appeared directly behind him.
“Mom?” Riley asked. “What’s going on?”
Watson’s voice cracked.
“Boys, this is Rowan.”
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