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“Are you excited for your birthday party?” I pushed the grocery cart, keeping pace with Sophie’s slow strides. She was in a purple Lululemon leggings-and-tank-top set that would have made me look like a grape.

“I am, but I don’t understand why I can only invite two people.” She scanned a display of cake toppings. “Do you know how many friends I have? It isn’t fair.”

“It’s your dad’s decision.” I stopped at the section of spices and searched the labels, trying to find cumin. “Respect it.”

“But if I just talked to him, I could explain.” She hung on the side of the cart, her earlobes sparkling with the small diamond studs Grant had given her for Christmas.

“Don’t talk to him about it,” I said sharply. “He told you once, and you already pushed it then.”

“But—”

“Sophie.” I turned to face her and bent so that we were at eye level. Grabbing her shoulders, I squeezed tightly, making sure I had her full attention. “Look at me. Do not talk to your father about it again, do you understand me? I will plan a pool party for all of your friends the following weekend, okay? It will be a secret, something we don’t need to tell Daddy until after your birthday, okay?”

She winced, squirming underneath my hard grip. “You’re hurting my arms.”

I studied her insolent face and had a brief moment when I realized how much I would miss her. No one would ever be able to say that I wouldn’t mourn my child, miss her giggle, the way she slipped her hand so confidently into mine. I enjoyed those moments.

It was sad that this had to happen. Sad—that was the emotion I should assign to it. Emotions like sadness were harder for me. They were like communion wafers—void of taste. Envy, greed, passion—those I felt vividly. Those I savored. They were explosions of flavor, a spicy conch salad of emotion.

I loved conch salad.

And I would love this. Maybe not the initial bite but certainly the lingering taste.

“Mom?” She wiggled, trying to pull away from me.

“I need you to promise me,” I said firmly, keeping her in place. “Don’t bother your father about it.”

“Okay, okay.” Her body sagged in defeat. “Fine.”

I stood and turned back to the rows of spices, my mind ticking through everything that still needed to be put into place before the party.

There was a lot, but that was okay. The planning was part of the fun.