“It’s just a spare, Meryl.”

“I know it is.”

I stepped closer.

“And that’s why this scares me. You love me. You’re trying to protect me. But somewhere along the way, you started deciding that being worried gives you permission to make the decision first.”

Liam stared at the floor.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then he said, “I still dream about the lock.”

I had never heard that before.

Not once.

“The apartment?”

He nodded.

“I’m outside. Dad’s inside. I know something’s wrong, and I’m just standing there. And every time somebody gives me a key, that dream gets quieter for a while.”

I looked at the red key between us.

“This one isn’t yours to carry.”

Liam stared at it for a moment.

Then he pushed it across the counter toward me.

“You’re right.”

That afternoon, we finished the little route Liam had planned.

The yellow key went to the person it had actually been made for.