Wren’s apartment is a hive of activity when we arrive. It looks like all Wren’s sisters are here, sorting through clothes, setting up portable cribs, and putting kid food in the cabinets.

“Your sisters didn’t have to do all this,” I say to Wren.

She shrugs. “This is what my family does.”

The kids stop cautiously in the doorway when they see all the people milling about. “It’s okay,” I say softly. “You can go in. This is Wren’s house. She’s very nice, and I know you’ll like her.”

“Where’s my mom?” Anna, the eight-year-old, asks.

“Your mom wasn’t feeling well, so she’s going to see the doctor so she can get better.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Anna wants to know.

“I’m not sure…” I say hesitantly.

“Will she be all right?” Anna asks quietly. Her lower lip trembles.

Wren squats down in front of her. “Your mom will be home before you know it. Let’s get you guys settled in and maybe we can watch a movie later.”

Anna scratches a spot on her neck, and it looks like she has a rash developing. “How about if we start with some baths?” I say.

“How about some bubbles?” Wren asks.

Anna’s face lights up. “I like bubbles,” she says. “Can I go first?”

“Um…” I say. I have no idea how to be sure a little girl gets a bath, one where she actually gets clean.

“Yes, you can go first,” Wren says. “Come on.” She motions for Anna to follow her and they turn to go into Wren’s bedroom.

“Do you need my help?” I ask.

Wren shakes her head. “I got this.”

“Wow!” I hear Anna exclaim. “Your bathtub is as big as a pool!” Then the bedroom door closes and they disappear.

I stand in the middle of the room, with three dirty kids wrapped all around me, staring at the beehive of activity that is Wren’s family.

“Give me the two little ones,” Finny says. She claps her hands in front of Chase, and the baby wiggles in my arms. “I’ll get them cleaned up. You can take this little guy,” she points toward Devon, “and get him cleaned up in the bathroom in the hallway.”

“I’ll bring clothes in just a second,” Star says, as she sits on the floor sorting clean clothes into piles.

“You got them clothes?” I say.

“And food and toys and lots of other stuff.” She doesn’t look up from the pile of laundry.

“Thank you,” I say.

She finally looks up at me. “No problem. We got you covered.”

I get Devon set up in the back bathroom with some soap and towels, and then I walk back into the kitchen. The kids will probably be hungry soon.

“Get out of my kitchen,” Lark says.

“What?”

“Out!” she shouts. “I am making a masterpiece of chicken nuggets and macaroni, and you’ll eat it before it ever gets to the table, just like Ryan would do. Out!”

“Remind me not to invite you over again,” I mutter playfully as I get a bottle of water from the fridge. Like this is my house or something.

“We don’t wait for invitations!” Star calls from the other room.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Star walks in carrying four piles of clothes. “For the baby,” she says, shoving a pile into my arms. “For the bigger baby.” She tops the small pile with another. “For the boy.” She slams down another set, and then another. “And for the girl.” She shoos me toward the hallway. “Go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply.

I take clothes to Devon and leave them on the bathroom counter. Then I take clothes to Finny, who has Roxy in the tub. She’s washing Chase with a soapy cloth. They’re both covered in bubbles and giggling as she makes funny faces at them. Then I go into Wren’s bedroom and I stop when I look through the doorway to the bathroom. Wren is sitting on the side of the tub helping Anna wash her long hair. Anna’s covered in bubbles, and she’s smiling. Wren’s humming a tune, and she doesn’t know I’m there. It sounds like “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” I stop and listen for a second.

My heart just about splits open when I realize that she’s humming the song she refused to sing just a few days ago, and she is doing it softly and quietly, with a smile on her beautiful face.

And it’s in that moment, when I watch Wren take care of a kid she has never even met before while she hums a song that was meant for her own baby, that I know I am head over heels for this woman.

I know nothing of loss. I’ve never lost anything or anyone important to me. But I know, without a doubt, that if I lost Wren, I’d be like a kite without a string. I’d be lost myself. But can you lose a person you never really had?

Wren looks up and her eyes meet mine. The song stops in her mouth, and she stares into my eyes. In them, I see that while she’s happy to be helping these children, she’s also still mourning the loss of something special. She’s mourning the loss of her own child, and I worry that these moments will serve as a painful reminder.

Wren gets up and comes to take the stack of clothes from me.

“Thank you,” I say, because I know this is a trial for her.

She nods. “You’re welcome.”

She goes back into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. The soft snick of the door catching sounds like the loudest shout. Almost like she screamed at me to get out of her private moment.

I’m out, but I’m not going to stay out for long.

No way in hell.