Your mother married your step-dad when you were fifteen. He was always kind to you, but you didn’t need a dad, so he didn’t try to be one. Besides, twenty-five is far too young to be a dad anyway.

“I’ll be home by the end of the week,” you mother smiles, hugging you both as she prepares to leave for her work trip, “I love you guys.”

“Love you, mom,” you say.

Schlatt gives her a gentle goodbye and she leaves.