*LENA*
My four-month- old baby Evan's learning to laugh. Real laughs. He laughs more when I blow raspberries on his stomach.
He's perfect.
Every day he looks more like Caleb. Dark hair, serious eyes, a strong jaw. Today the judge will decide if Caleb gets to know him or not.
Eleanor's making a coffee I won't drink. My stomach can't handle it.
"You need to eat." She says.
" I can't eat."
She knows better than to push.
Evan's on his play mat. Grabbing toys. Making sounds that aren't words but feel like a conversation. Probably the last morning where he's just mine.
"What if he takes him?" My voice comes out small.
Eleanor sits beside me. "The judge won't give custody."
"But visitation. And then Evan will love him and I'll have to share—"
I can't finish.
She puts her arm around
