I laughed and went back to chopping.
Keeping my hands busy had become a habit after Elena died.
If something broke, I fixed it. If one of the kids mentioned being hungry, I cooked too much.
Doing things was easier than sitting still long enough to miss my wife.
« I’m 12, and even I know that’s not true. »
***
Elena and I had been married for eight years. When we met, she was already raising three kids on her own. Their biological father had disappeared when they were little. Maya had still been a baby.
I never thought of myself as taking another man’s place. I fell in love with Elena, then with Mackenzie, Matthew, and Maya.
I adopted all three.
They were mine.
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