I stared at the back of the officer’s head. “You know my kid.”
He didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly, “Yes, ma’am.”
My heart lurched. “Are they in danger?”
“No.”
“Then why am I in a police car?”
He exhaled like he was trying not to say the wrong thing. “Just hold on.”
Through the glass, I saw movement.
The police officer turned into a parking lot. A community center I recognized. The one where I used to sit on hard bleachers to support my kids. We always had the best time. The sight brought back so many happy memories, but they couldn’t drown out my anxiety.
Cars were parked out front. Cars I knew. Mark’s SUV. Sarah’s sedan. Jason’s truck.
My mouth went dry. “What is this?”
The officer parked and came around to open my door. He offered a hand. I ignored it and climbed out on my own, legs shaky. He guided me toward the entrance.
Through the glass, I saw movement.
Caleb went pale.
I stopped. “If this is some kind of joke.”
“It’s not.”
My chest tightened. Hope and anger tangled together. He opened the door. The lights snapped on.
“HAPPY,” Jason started, then froze when he saw my expression.
Mark’s face looked guilty so fast it made my stomach twist. Sarah’s expression sharpened into pure alarm. Eliza covered her mouth. Caleb went pale.
“I waited four hours.”
The banner read. “HAPPY 60TH, MOM.” Balloons. Streamers. A cake that looked expensive. And five of my children were standing there like they’d been waiting for the punchline.
I stood very still. Then my voice came out small and sharp. “So you were all here.”
Mark stepped forward fast. “Mom, wait.”
“I waited four hours,” I said. “Four.”
Jason blurted, “We weren’t ignoring you. We wanted to surprise you. Grant was supposed to pick you up. He was busy tonight, so we prepped this place without him.”
