Noah wakes me up around 5:30 in the morning.

“Mom? Where’s Jane?”

He’s used to Jane being here. Ever since she started dating Brody, she’s been out late most nights, and gone others.

“She’s having a sleepover with Brody,” I say.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’ll be back in a few days,” I say.

Noah looks up at me with big eyes. “Oh.”

“Do...you wanna go see him?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says.

I get him into the car, and I start driving to the hotel. I call him on the way--realizing that I don’t even know when his flight is. Unless it’s super early, I can catch him when he’s waking up. It will be good to at least say goodbye to him. His phone goes straight to voicemail. He might be on the plane, I realize, or maybe his phone just died.

I bring Noah into the lobby, and I go to the front desk. “Good morning, I’m looking for Jack Renshaw’s room.”

“I can call him,” she says, “but I can’t give you his room number.”

“I already called his cell,” I say, “and it’s dead. Can you at least tell me if he’s checked out already?”

She purses her lips and hits some buttons on the keyboard. “Mmm, she says, no...he hasn’t checked out.”

She hits more buttons, and confusion fills her face.

“Why do you look confused?” I ask, leaning in.

She flashes a big fake smile and laughs nervously. “I can call his room for you, ma’am, and all I can tell you is that he has not checked out.”

“You know something, don’t you?” I ask.

“Is that his son?” she whispers to me.

I nod.

“Are you two…” the receptionist says, looking at me. I can feel the veins on my forehead bulging with anger, and the receptionist must be able to read that, because she stops mid-question.

“Tell me,” I say.

The woman leans into me. “He came in last night with a woman. I think I saw him leaving later with a bunch of bags...but I don’t remember him checking out. Since he left, I assumed he’d checked out already.”

“A woman,” I say, fuming. “You must be mistaken.”

A woman? Didn’t Jack just drop the L-bomb on me? Did he seriously tell me he loved me while another woman was in his bed? Is Jack actually a total piece of shit I never should have trusted for a second?

“I can...call the room,” the woman says.

I grab hold of her screen and turn it toward me. I see Jack’s name, and I see a number, 346. Without saying a word, I turn the screen back toward her. I smile and say, “No, thank you.”

“Let’s go, Noah,” I say.

We head toward the elevator.

“Can I push the button?” Noah asks.

I tell him to push the up arrow, and he does.

We ride up to the third floor, then exit.

I don’t know what my plan is. I’m mostly in denial. There won’t be a woman in there, it will just be Jack. The receptionist is mistaken. Though a woman would explain his phone being off. I’m tempted to have Noah wait by the vending machines or something, but I can’t leave a three-year-old alone in a hotel hallway while I scream at some bitch and tell Jack that I hate him.

If I do open the door and see what I fear I’ll see, I will just slam it and get Noah the hell away.

“Room 346,” I say, standing outside the door.

I knock, loud.

I wait, and nothing happens. I start knocking louder, not stopping.

Noah looks up at me, seeming worried.

“It’s okay,” I say. “There’s no doorbell, so I have to knock louder.”

I keep knocking, feeling more and more worried with each passing moment. Could he seriously be using this time to try to hide the woman? I’m gonna search every nook and cranny once I’m in there. It’s not like she can climb out the window on the third floor.

The door opens up, and I see the worst thing I could ever have imagined. My sister.

I stare at her with my jaw hanging wide open.

“I thought we were gonna visit Dad, not Aunt Jane,” Noah says.

“You...you…” I say, locking eyes with Jane. “How could you--?”

“He said he wasn’t going to tell you until he got back,” Jane says.

Her eyes are crusted shut, and her voice sounds like she died and came back to life.

I’m tempted to just slap her, but instead I ask, “He’s not here?”

“No,” Jane says.

“Go inside, Noah. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Noah goes inside, looks up at me in confusion, and I shut the door.

“You fucking bitch,” I whisper to Jane. “How could you? My own sister?”

“Come on…” Jane says. “You knew it would probably happen sooner or later. It’s naive to think otherwise.”

I shove her into the door. “What the fuck? Maybe I’d expect this from you if you were drinking, but you’ve been--”

“What?” Jane asks. “Of course I’ve been drinking.”

“Huh?” I ask, looking at her again.

Jesus, she has been drinking.

“What did Jack tell you then, if you didn’t know I was drinking?”

“Jack didn’t tell me anything!” I hiss.

“He didn’t tell you?” Jane asks. “Then why were you mad at me?”

“Did you fuck the father of my child?” I ask.

Jane laughs, then looks terrified. “Oh, God, no! No, Liz, of course not!”

“Why are you…?”

“Brody dumped me,” she says. “I got blasted, and I called Jack. I don’t remember super well all the details...but he let me have his room.”

“You’re sure that you didn’t…”

“No, Liz,” she says. “I don’t remember much, but I’m sure of that.”

I sigh in relief. “Let’s go tell Noah everything is okay.”

“There was a note on the door,” Jane says. “I didn’t read it, because it fell on the floor. You were knocking so loud...”

“Okay,” I say. “Open up, let’s see it.”

“Oh, shit,” she says. “I didn’t bring the keycard.”

I knock again, then shout through the door. “Noah, can you open the door?”

A few moments later the door opens up, and we both go inside. I snatch the note off the floor and read it, then I stick it in Jane’s face. “Were you going to tell me you were drinking again? Or were you going to force Jack to do it?”

Jane bites her lip. “I hadn’t even read this yet, Liz, I don’t know.”

I open up the mini-fridge, and I see only soda, candy, and water.

“You raided his mini-fridge?” I ask.

“Huh?” Jane says. “I don’t think so...I’d still be drunk if I had.”

“Can I have a candy?” Noah asks.

I grab a bag of M&Ms out of the fridge, tear it open, and pour out a few into his hand.

“How can you get drunk over Brody?” I ask. “Come on, Jane. You were doing so well for so long.”

She sighs. “He called me a drunk fuc--” she looks over at Noah eating his M&Ms. “A drunk mess-up.”

“So you had to go and prove him right?” I ask. “Is he the one that got you drinking again in the first place? What kind of a-hole makes someone in recovery drink, then dumps her for drinking?”

“When you phrase it like that,” Jane says, “it sounds like it was all his fault, that I didn’t--”

“It’s your fault, too,” I say. “But God, I hate that guy. If I ever see him again, I’ll--”

“Save it,” Jane says. “You’re right, it’s my fault. Let’s go home, okay? I need you to keep an eye on me for the next few days...I could really use another drink.”

“I won’t let you,” I say.

“I know,” Jane says. “That’s why I need you.”