(Rebecca's POV)
Saturday is the county fair. Jack's request, delivered with the specific relentlessness of a seven-year-old who has decided this is the hill he's dying on.
Handoff happens at the curb — Sean's car, my car, Jack standing between us with his hands on his hips like a tiny negotiator finalizing terms.
"One ride," Jack says. "With both of you. The big slide. Please."
"Jack, that's not really how handoff—"
"*Please.*"
The physics of a seven-year-old's please is not a force I have adequate tools to resist. I look at Sean. Sean looks at me, something unreadable crossing his face for half a second before he shrugs.
"One ride," Sean says. "Then handoff happens like normal."
We ride the slide. All three of us crammed onto one burlap sack meant for two, Jack wedged between us,
