Celeste’s POV
I finally dragged myself in that evening, my shoulders aching like they'd been carrying the world. I kicked off my shoes and leaned against the wall, just breathing for a sec. It was quiet, except for the cartoon sounds from the living room. His backpack was already tossed by the couch. Shoes by the door. Jacket hanging off the chair, like always.
I didn't even say his name. He knew I was there.
“Mommy!” He yelled, running to me like a little tornado, messy hair, bright eyes, socks falling down.
I hugged him tight. For a second, I felt better.
“You’re late,” he said, trying to look serious, his little eyebrows all scrunched. “I counted to a hundred three times. You didn't come.”
“I know,” I whispered, touching his cheek. “Work kept me. I'm sorry.”
He frowned. “Work alw
