Mia came home from work to find a middle-aged woman sitting in the stairwell, a bag of fruit in her lap. The woman had recently gotten a perm. When she heard Mia on the stairs, she stood and brushed off her pants.
"Mia."
Mia stopped on the step. "Peyton."
Cole's mother stepped inside and took in the small room — barely enough space to turn around — without saying anything. Mia poured her a cup of hot water.
"He's lost over twenty pounds," Peyton said. "Living on instant ramen. I came up from home to check on him." She sighed. "He's always been this way, just like his father. Doesn't know how to take care of people. But he does care about you, in his own way."
Mia nodded. "Can I tell you a few things?"
She spoke evenly, walking through it all: the forgotten birthday in year three, the
