I nearly dialed 911 on the tattooed teenager holding a screaming baby inside an empty 1 AM laundromat. Then his bag tore open, and my stomach sank with utter shame.

uncertain whether to stay or go.

“Thank you,” he said.

Rachel’s eyes filled.

“You’re welcome.”

He swallowed.

“She told me you made the washcloth bunny ears.”

Rachel smiled.

“My specialty.”

Emma lifted her head.

“Daddy, Rachel’s bunny is terrible.”

Jackson laughed.

“So is Nana’s.”

“Excuse me,” I said.

Emma giggled.

Rachel laughed.

And for one brief, impossible second,continue reading …