Chapter 4 - THE FIRST BREAKFAST
Adrian called the next morning.
At seven-thirty.
I was making oatmeal while Ethan searched for a missing science worksheet and Leo tried to convince Noah that cereal counted as soup.
My phone vibrated.
Adrian Moretti.
I stared at the screen.
Then answered.
“Hello.”
“Claire.”
His voice was quieter than I remembered.
“Is this a bad time?”
I looked around my kitchen.
A pot was boiling.
Someone had spilled orange juice.
Noah was arguing with Ethan about the definition of a liquid.
“It's a normal time.”
Adrian hesitated.
“Could I see the boys?”
I looked toward the table.
“They have school.”
“After school?”
I considered.
Then said:
“You can meet us for breakfast on Saturday.”
He exhaled.
“Anywhere you want.”
“Daisy's Diner. Nine o'clock.”
“Where is it?”
I gave him the address.
He repeated it carefully.
Then asked:
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“What do they like to eat?”
I looked at my sons.
“Noah likes pancakes. Ethan likes scrambled eggs, but only if they're soft. Leo likes waffles with strawberries.”
Adrian was silent.
Then I heard the faint sound of typing.
He was writing it down.
Something tightened in my chest.
“Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“Don't bring presents.”
He hesitated.
“Not even something small?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Okay.”
“And come alone.”
“Okay.”
“And please don't wear a suit.”
That made him laugh.
“I'll try.”
When I hung up, Noah was watching me.
“Was that him?”
I nodded.
“Are we meeting him?”
“Saturday.”
Ethan frowned.
“Do we have to call him Dad?”
“No.”
Leo looked disappointed.
“Can we?”
I sat beside them.
“You can call him whatever feels comfortable.”
Noah stared at his oatmeal.
Then asked:
“Are you going to marry him again?”
The question struck me unexpectedly.
“Noah.”
“What?”
“That's not something we're discussing.”
He looked at me.
“But you loved him once.”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Then whispered:
“Did he love you?”
I looked toward the window.
Outside, Chicago was covered in snow.
May you like
“Yes,” I said softly.
“I think he did.”
