56.
Ethan warmly hugs his mom, pressing his cheek against her straight, light-brown hair. They smile and sit down at the Chinese restaurant.
“Milly, so nice to meet you!”
“Likewise. You’re — so young.”
“Ethan and I met when I was fourteen. He was just a baby. I worked in the nursery at my orphanage.”
“When I was fourteen”—Milly clears her throat—“wait, which of you is the orphan?”
Ethan chuckles. “Both of us.”
“I was the only one in my whole family who survived,” his mom says. “We weren’t rich, but when I turned eighteen, I inherited everything. I adopted Ethan.”
“When you were eighteen?”
Ethan’s mom nods and smiles. “And he was four. Since they knew me, they allowed it. He was just the cutest, sweetest little boy. I couldn’t stand the thought he’d spend years in that place.”
“That’s life-changing,” Milly says.
“Literally.” Ethan reaches to hold his mom’s hand, which is badly scarred. “She’s not mentioning she couldn’t have kids.”
“It’s true, I was exposed. But that’s not why. I figured if I could save just one person”—she turns to Ethan—“that matters. Being a mother means it’s not about me anymore.”
“Her money paid for my college.”
“Our money, Ethan. Both our educations. Then”—her hands poof like confetti—“all gone!”
Milly’s jaw drops. “Wow.”
While Ethan visits the restroom, Milly stares out the window, essentially ignoring his mom.
Without this numbness, her comment would’ve stopped my task cold.