When she sat me down in my living room, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes glowed in a way that made my stomach twist before she even spoke.
Then she said, “Mom, I’m in love.” I smiled instinctively.
She knew what she wanted and didn’t wait for permission.
Then she said his name.
“It’s Arthur.”
I blinked. “Arthur… who?”
“You know who,” she said.
I stared at her, and my throat tightened.
“My Arthur?”
She nodded and blushed, with a smile so wide it looked pasted on. “It just happened. He reached out, and we talked. He always understood me — and now that you’re not together…”
Then she said his name.
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