“We’ve only got fifteen minutes left before we have to go,” Mabel says.

I stay squatted down, holding my daughter in my arms, swinging her from side to side.

“Okay,” I breathe out, pulling back so I can take her in. It’s only two weeks between short visits, but she grows so much every time I see her. Today, she’s wearing a blue shirt underneath denim overalls and ratty blue shoes; all hand me downs from the foster family’s five other boys.

“You look so pretty, Aries,” I coo, cupping her face. Then I kiss her little button nose, the rose-colored cheeks, all belonging to the girl I see as my reward.

“Shin,” she tells me, tugging on my hand.

I stand up, let her lead the way toward the playground. Then I help her onto a swing while Mabel, our social worker, takes a seat on a park bench and pulls out her folder to take notes. I wonder what she’ll write this week. That I was late? That I showed up with—

I glance over my shoulder to see Noah leaning against Bradley’s truck, his hands in his pockets, watching us.

“Poohh!” my daughter says, and I set aside all other thoughts, at least for the next fifteen minutes. Because fifteen minutes is all I have. Then I push her on the swing, letting the sound of her laughter fill my heart.

We play on the swings, on the slide, and I carry her while she attempts to cross the monkey bars. She asks to play in the sandpit, but I don’t allow her to. I read an article about used syringes in playground sandpits, and it worries me to no end. But one day, when she’s all mine, living in our own house, I’ll buy her the best damn sandpit there is.

“Do you like your shoes?” I ask her, contemplating shifting around enough funds to buy her a new pair.

“Boo,” she says, pulling on my hand to go back to the swings.

“They are blue. Good girl, Aries. And do you like blue?”

She nods, motions for me to help her get on the swing again. Once she’s settled, she points to the sky. “Jamana?”

I smile at her attempt to say my name. “Jamana can only be seen at night, remember?”

She nods. “Tars.”

“With the stars, that’s right.”

“Shin?” she asks, blinking up at me.

“We’re on the swings, sweetheart.”

Her little head moves from side to side. “Shin! Tinka Tinka!”

“Oh! You want to sing “Twinkle Twinkle”?”

“Yeah. Pooh. Shin.”

So I do as she asks, I push and sing her the song I wasn’t around to teach her.

Too soon, Mabel approaches, Aries’s jacket that I’d brought held in her hand. “It’s time to go, sweetheart.” I don’t know if she’s speaking to Aries or me, but I nod anyway, carry Aries off the swing, take the jacket from Mabel, and help Aries’s arms into the sleeves. I push down the lump in my throat—the same lump that’s there every time we have to say goodbye. Aries takes my hand, starts leading us to Mabel’s car.

I ask Mabel, my voice low so only she can hear, “How is she? Is everything... I mean...” I never really know what to ask in these moments. I want to know that she’s okay, that the foster family she’s been with for the past year is treating her well, but I feel as if I’m being intrusive, ungrateful almost.

“We’ll talk when she’s in the car,” Mabel says, and it’s only now I notice that Noah’s parked right next to Mabel. I offer him a smile, not knowing how else to act. I don’t even want to think about what’s going through his mind right now. If he’s wondering why I kept this from him. The truth is, I’ve wanted to tell him. I’ve tried to tell him. When he assumed that there was another guy in my life, I tried to tell him that he was wrong. That it wasn’t like that. And before that, I tried… but…

Fear.

Fear is what stopped me.

Because history has made me that way.

After getting Aries secured in the car seat, I give her one more kiss. One more cuddle. Followed by an I love you. And my usual: “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Tears threaten to fall, but I hold them back, not wanting her to see me that way. When the door’s closed, creating a barrier between us, Mabel tells me, “She’s settled in well. She’s getting along with the other foster children, and she seems happy.”

I chance a peek at Noah, who’s still standing by the hood of the truck, staring down at his feet. “Is she still, I mean, the last place wasn’t good—”

“Her emotional stability is improving,” Mabel says, and I tear my gaze away from him and back to her. She adds, “The current family she’s with has had children like your daughter in the past, so they’re familiar with her needs.”

“That’s good.”

“I don’t want you to worry about her; that’s my job. I want you to focus on you. How are things with your sister?”

“Good.” I nod, try to level my emotions. “We’re good. We’re saving every penny for when... Do you know? Is there a date set yet?”

Mabel frowns, and it tears my heart in two. “It’s still going to be a while, and to be honest, in your case, the more time you have to set things up, the better it’ll be for the custody hearing. I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” I breathe out, my chest rising with my intake of breath.

“Is this...” She motions to Noah.

“This is my neighbor, Noah.”

Hearing his name, Noah looks up at me, then at Mabel. Mabel says, “Thank you for giving Andie a ride; it means a lot to her daughter to be able to see her.”

Noah nods, his throat rolling with his swallow before he pushes off the hood and approaches us. “It’s no problem,” he says, his voice strained.

I find what little courage I have left. “Noah, this is Mabel. She’s a social worker for children’s services.”

Always the polite one, Noah extends his arm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Likewise,” she says, taking his offered hand. “Can you give us a minute, Noah?”

He disengages their contact, gives another nod, and without looking at me, murmurs, “I’ll wait in the car.”

Mabel motions for me to follow her to the driver’s side of her car while Noah gets in the truck. She waits until he’s seated and the door’s closed, just like she did with Aries, before lowering her voice, her words barely a whisper, “There’s nothing going on between you two, is there?”

I shake my head, look down at the space between us. “No. He’s my neighbor.” That’s all he’ll ever be.

“Good. Because the judge might not be happy about you getting out and starting a relationship with another man. Your psych evaluation showed—”

“I know,” I cut in. “Trust me, I know. Like I said, he’s just my neighbor.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you in two weeks. Call if you need anything.”

I nod as she opens the door, speaks to my daughter, “Say bye to Mama, Aries.”

“Buh, Mama.”

I choke on a sob I hope isn’t too obvious. “Bye, baby girl.” Then I force a smile. “I love you.”

She pokes at the holes in her jeans, but doesn’t offer the same affection.

She never does.

With one hand clutched to my chest, the other covering my mouth to stop the sob from falling—I watch as my reward moves farther and farther away from me until she disappears completely behind a cloud of dust left by the spinning tires.

Then I take a moment for myself, not ready to be in such small confines with the boy who’s on my mind almost as much as my daughter. Normally, I would get in my car the moment they’re gone and release my emotions into my hands, the sounds of my helpless cries bouncing off the interior. But now, there’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to discharge my desperation. So, I get into the truck, wait for him to speak first. It’s not until we’re halfway to our destination that he shifts in his seat.

I hold my breath.

Wait.

He says, his voice cracking, “Your daughter... she’s...”

“Got Down’s Syndrome? Yes.”

He’s quiet a moment, and the sound of his silence releases the first set of tears. I clasp my mouth shut, not wanting him to hear my weakness, but my heart is breaking, knowing I’ve already lost him, just like I’d once lost her.

“I was going to say beautiful.” Noah clears his throat. “You’re daughter’s beautiful, Andromeda.”