“You took him to the emergency room? Have you even slept?”

As if the thought of it is a trigger, Jonah yawns, covering his mouth with a fist. He shakes his head. “I’ll be okay. I might have time to make a Starbucks run.” He opens the living room door to leave.

“Wait.” I go to the kitchen and grab the sack of breakfast burritos, running them back to him before he escapes. “I made these for you. Breakfast burritos. Sounds like you’re about to have a long day.”

Jonah looks at me with a soft appreciation as he takes it from me. “Thank you.” There’s a little bit of surprise in his voice, and I try not to let that please me, but it does. It feels good to do something nice for him. I’ve been so hard on him for so long.

“I’ll text you with updates on Elijah. Don’t worry. He’s in good hands.”

Jonah smiles. “I don’t doubt that for a second. See you tonight.”

As soon as he leaves, Clara walks around the corner, dressed for school. She sees Elijah in my arms and lights up, holding her arms out in front of her. “Gimme.”

I hand him to her. “He’s sick. Don’t kiss him—you might catch it.”

She cradles him against her chest and kisses his forehead anyway. “Sick babies need all the kisses they can get.”

She’s right. When Clara was a baby, the sicker she was, the more I coddled her and kissed her and just wanted to take all her aches and pains away. God, I miss those days.

I’m sure sometime in the near future, I’ll miss these days. I feel like Clara and I are an impossible pair this year, but I know I’ll miss it after she moves out and starts a life of her own. I’ll miss it all—the arguments, the silent treatments, the groundings, the rebellious behavior.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Clara asks.

I smile and pull her in for a hug. She’s holding Elijah, so she can’t reciprocate the hug, but it’s enough that she isn’t pulling away. I kiss the side of her head. “I love you.”

When I pull back, she’s looking at me with a cautious expression. But then she smiles and says, “Love you, too, Mom.”

She goes to the couch to sit with Elijah.

“I made breakfast burritos. Left you some on the counter.”

Clara perks up. “Bacon or sausage?”

“Both.”

“Yes,” she whispers. She gives her attention back to Elijah. “I love you, buddy, but I have breakfast to eat.”

I shoot Jonah a text around ten to let him know Elijah’s fever has gone down a little. He responds at noon.

Jonah: Is he sleeping at all?

Me: Not really. I bet he’ll crash once his fever finally breaks, though.

Jonah: Hopefully he waits until I’m ready to crash. This has been the longest day and it’s only noon. The breakfast was a godsend. Thanks for that.

Me: I have a roast in the crockpot. Clara and I won’t eat it all, so I can send some home with you when you pick up Elijah.

Jonah: Perfect. Thanks again.

Two hours later, I get another text from Jonah.

Jonah: Is he asleep yet?

Me: He took a fifteen minute nap. Still has fever, but he’s not as fussy as he was.

Then, a text from Clara.

Clara: Miller and I need to work on our project after school. We’ll be at Starbucks.

Me: What project? This is the first I’m hearing about a project with Miller.

Clara: Jonah partnered us up for the UIL film submission. We have less than 4 months to finish.

I text Jonah.

Me: You partnered Clara up with Miller Adams on the film project?

Jonah: Yes. Is that an issue?

Me: I’m assuming in more ways than one, considering he introduced her to drugs. And Chris already told her to stay away from him.

Jonah: Miller isn’t as bad as you seem to think he is. Chris didn’t even know the kid, so his opinion doesn’t count.

Me: I’ve formed my own opinion of the kid. He talked Clara into leaving her father’s funeral. He got her high. And according to a voice mail I received from the school, they both had detention last week due to PDA. She never did any of this before he was in the picture. And even if he’s not the cause of her actions, I’d still rather her be with someone who would talk her OUT of doing those things, rather than be the type of teenage boy to encourage her behavior.

Jonah: I don’t think that kind of teenage boy exists in real life.

Morgan: You’re not making me feel better about this.

I wait for his response, but I don’t get one.

I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to keep Elijah awake so that he’ll sleep for Jonah tonight, but once six o’clock hits, there’s no hope left. He’s out cold. His tiny body is limp in my arms, deep in sleep as I place him in his bassinet. His fever finally broke a couple of hours ago, so I think the worst is over, but I have a feeling after Elijah sleeps for a few hours, he’ll be up all night with Jonah. Maybe I should offer to keep him for the night so Jonah can rest.

I pull out my phone to text Jonah those exact words when he knocks on the front door. I look down at Elijah, and the sound doesn’t even make him flinch. When I open the front door, I whisper, “He just fell asleep.”

Jonah is no longer wearing a tie. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and his hair is messier than it was this morning. He looks even better than he did this morning, despite the exhaustion consuming him. Why am I even having these thoughts?

I motion for him to come to the kitchen so I can make him a plate of food to take with him. I pull Tupperware from the cabinet.

“Have you already eaten?” Jonah asks.

“Not yet.”

“I’ll just eat here, then.” He opens the cabinet next to me, where I keep the plates, and he removes two of them. I replace the Tupperware in the cabinet and take a plate from him.

This is good. This is casual. Friends eat food together.

We both make our plates and take a seat at the table. As normal as it is for two people to eat a meal together, Jonah and I have never done so without Chris and Jenny. That part seems off. Like there are two huge gaping holes sucking the comfort out of the meal.

“This is really good,” Jonah says, taking another bite. “So were your burritos.”

“Thanks.”

“Is everything you cook this good?”

I nod confidently. “I’m a great cook. Chris hated going out to eat because he said restaurants never compared to what he got at home.”

“How was he not fat?” Jonah shakes his head. “I’d get so fat eating this every day.”

“He worked out twice a day. You know that.”

It feels weird talking about Chris like we don’t hate him, but I like it. Eventually, I’d like to remember all the good memories without the shadow of the bad ones. We had a lot of good memories together.

“Where’s Clara?”

I point my fork at him. “With that boy. All your fault.”

Jonah laughs. “He’s still one of my favorite students. I don’t care what you think of him.”

“What kind of student is Clara?”

“Great,” he says.