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He went back to mixing, movements careful, precise. “I met her at a bar in Nashville. She was visiting for some bachelorette party, I was there with the crew after a big job. Should’ve known better than to start something with someone who lived three states away, but…”

“But she was beautiful and you were young?”

“Something like that. Got married fast. She moved here, hated it immediately. Too small, quiet and boring. Got pregnant with Noa and I thought that would fix things.”

“Rookie mistake. Babies don’t fix things.”

“No, they don’t.” He poured batter onto the griddle in perfect circles. “She left when Noa was six months old. Came home from a job to find Noa screaming in her crib. Bottle was cold, diaper hadn’t been changed in hours, and Andrea’s car was gone.”

My chest tightened. “So she just left? What did you do?”

“Changed Noa’s diaper. Warmed her bottle. Then called my lawyer and filed for full custody.” He flipped the pancakes with ease. “Judge didn’t even hesitate. Abandonment’s pretty cut and dried.”

“Does she see Noa at all?”

“No. She sends Christmas presents sometimes. Always the wrong size or age. Last year she sent a chemistry set for a four-year-old.”

“Do you hate her?”

He plated the pancakes, taking his time with syrup and butter before answering.

“I did. For a long time. Spent Noa’s first birthday planning all the things I’d say if Andrea ever showed up. Then Noa walked her first steps and I realized I didn’t have room for hate and all the things she needs.”

We ate in comfortable silence. The pancakes were perfect, fluffy and sweet with a hint of vanilla that must have been Noa’s secret ingredient. Definitely not the bad ones Noa had mentioned. Outside, birds argued in my disaster of a garden. Normal morning sounds for an absolutely abnormal day.

“Your turn,” he said eventually. “The whole Garrett circus. Start from the beginning.”

So I did. Told him about meeting Garrett through a mutual friend at twenty-five. How he’d pursued me with the same determination he showed in court. How I’d mistaken intensity for passion, control for caring.

“When did it start going wrong?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know if it was ever right. He proposed after five months, planned the whole wedding while I was dealing with my mom’s first cancer diagnosis. We pushed it back several years, of course. I kept thinking I was lucky to have someone who could handle everything. Who had my back.”

“But he wasn’t handling it.”

“Yeah. Took me years to figure that out.”

“And Sophie?”

I pushed pancake pieces around my plate. “We were close growing up. Not twin-telepathy close, but we had our own language, inside jokes, the whole thing. Then puberty hit and she got gorgeous while I got awkward. She never let me forget it.”

“You’re not awkward.”

“You didn’t see my braces phase.”

“I mean now. You’re not awkward now. You’re…” He cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in his empty plate. “You’re beautiful.”

The word echoed in the silence, too sincere for casual morning conversation. I felt heat creep up my neck.

“So two years ago,” I continued, needing to push past whatever was happening. “Sophie’s husband Joel gets deployed. She’s lonely, shows up at our house crying. Garrett offers to help with some legal stuff for her business. I thought I was being a good sister, encouraging them to spend time together.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“Couldn’t I? She wore designer lingerie to family dinners. He started working late every time Joel left town. I was so focused on keeping everyone happy that I ignored every red flag. Only now I connected the freaking dots.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s not.”