"No, baby. Why would I be sad?"
"Because you keep looking out the window like you're thinking about something that makes you not smile."
Three years old and already too perceptive for his own good. I hugged him close and forced brightness into my voice. "Mommy's just thinking about work. But right now, I'm thinking about pizza and spending time with my favorite person in the whole world."
"Me?" Tom giggled and wrapped his arms around my neck. "I'm your favorite?"
"Always." I breathed in his little-boy scent of shampoo and crayons. "You're my favorite person, my best friend, and the best thing that ever happened to me."
"What about Daddy?" The question came out casual, but I felt Tom tense slightly in my arms. "Is he your favorite too?"
My throat tightened. Tom asked about his father
