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The drink looks good. It has way too much whipped cream, but there are worse crimes in the world. “I’ve never had peppermint in my hot cocoa.”

Her jaw drops. “Then what are you waiting for? Take a sip. I promise you, you’ll never drink regular hot cocoa again. It’s mind blowing.”

I take a sip. The chocolate coats my mouth, leaving behind a hint of peppermint.

“And?”

“It’s good.” It’s something I probably would’ve never tried, but I like it. I was worried it would be too sweet, but it’s just the right amount.

She nods. “I know. You’re welcome.”

I sit back, staring out the window. It’s strange watching all the people driving by. Each person is going about their day. They all have their own worries, I’m sure, but I doubt any of them grew up the way I did. I wonder what it would be like to always belong, right from the beginning.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

My attention redirects to her. “Nothing.”

She takes my hand. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m right here.” The warmth of her hand calms me.

She’s right. I don’t need to be scared. I’m going to find out the truth—what I’ve been yearning for, and yet, I can’t keep still. My feet tap underneath the table, and I can’t stop fidgeting with my drink. There’s something about meeting someone who knew my mom, really knew her, that has my nervous system imploding. Grandma never wanted to talk about her. It was almost like she wanted to pretend my mom never existed. She said it was better that way. My mom abandoned me, after all.

Margo looks out the window, squinting. “Is that her?”

There’s a woman with soft blonde hair who appears to be in her late thirties walking toward the entrance of the café. She wears a tan trench coat that reaches the tops of her boots. As soon as she walks in, she lifts her sunglasses and positions them on top of her head. She looks around.

Margo stands up, waving. “Meghan?”

Meghan smiles and starts to walk closer. “Hello, you must be Margo, and you must—” Her eyes fall on me, and she stops dead in her tracks, words catching in her throat. “You have her eyes.”

My eyes dart away, trying to avoid the attention by looking anywhere but at her.

She comes up to me and takes my hand, shaking it with both of her hands. “You must be Daniel.”

I nod. “That’s me.”

She shakes my hand for an awkwardly long time before letting go and staggering back. “Sorry, I— It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You knew about me?” I ask. I thought I was a mistake that my mother never wanted. Why would she have told anyone about me?

“Of course,” she says, sitting down. “I wish I had gotten the chance to meet you before now, but I lost contact after your mom passed.”

Margo sits next to her and takes a sip of her drink. Then, wasting no time, she asks the question I’m too afraid to ask. “So what do you know about Daniel’s father?”

Meghan takes a breath, easing into her chair. “Before I tell you that, I need you to understand why your mom chose to move away when she was pregnant with you.”

I nod, giving her the green light to keep talking.

“They started dating sophomore year in high school, but your dad wasn’t part of the best crowd. At first he didn’t do much, but eventually he became addicted to drugs. She thought she could change him, but he changed her. He’s the reason your mom got addicted too.”

That doesn’t mean it wasn’t her fault. She had free will.She didn’t have to choose that way of life, but she did. She chose it over me.

“Your mom moved when she found out she was pregnant with you,” Meghan continues. “She wanted to get clean. She wanted a better life for you.”

She wanted to get clean? For me? Then why didn’t she?

I feel like Meghan can sense my questions without hearing them.

“She did that for you. She got clean for awhile,” she says.