Watson followed my eyes.
“I’ll light it with you later,” he said.
“After everyone leaves.”
He nodded.
We’d never let Riley and Rex forget their brother. Rowan wasn’t a secret in our house. He was one of my sons.
That was how I’d counted them since the day they were born.
Watson followed my eyes.
Then the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it, hon,” I said, wiping frosting from my thumb.
Watson glanced toward the yard. “Probably another kid who forgot which gate to use.”
I opened the front door, expecting a teenager with a gift bag and grass on his shoes.
No one was there.
There was only a small brown box on the welcome mat. There wasn’t a shipping label or a stamp, just a message in black marker across the top.
