Harrington in a new light.
He baked cookies with Carter, helped him build a model spaceship for school, and even taught him how to ride a bike. He told Carter stories of his father as a boy—adventures, and mischief that made my little boy giggle.
For the first time in months, I felt like we had something we’d lost: family.
Still, the shadow of my ex lingered. I’d heard whispers through mutual friends that he’d fled town, broke and angry, leaving behind nothing but debt.
Part of me wanted closure, but a bigger part of me knew he’d made his choice.
One evening, as I tucked Carter into bed, he looked up at me with sleepy eyes. “Mom, do you think Grandpa’s lonely?”
I glanced toward the hallway, where Mr. Harrington sat in his armchair, staring at a photo of his late wife.
My throat tightened. “Maybe a little, sweetie. But I think we’re helping with that.”
From the doorway, Mr.
Harrington’s voice broke the quiet. “You’re doing more than you know.”
Source: amomama
