the kitchen. He obeyed, although he looked back at me twice before disappearing.
The moment we were alone, I asked, “How old is he?”
Jessi folded her arms against the cold.
“Ivan, don’t do this out here.”
“How old, Jessi?”
She held my gaze.
“Seven.”
The number hit harder than the icy wind.
Our divorce had become final seven years earlier, only three weeks before I left on an overseas military assignment that kept me away almost fourteen months.
I glanced past Jessi into the warm living room. Handmade Christmas
