After Keith left, my mother came out holding Oliver. I wasn’t sure if Oliver had overheard our conversation.

He handed me a piece of cookie.

“Mommy, don’t be angry. Grandma’s cookies are really good.”

Oliver was so considerate, more than a child his age should be. I even wished he would cry and ask me why I didn’t want him. But he didn’t, his thoughtfulness only made my heart ache.

I resigned from my job and focused all my attention on Oliver. Jeremy still lived next door and often came over for meals. One day at the dinner table, he suddenly asked, “Have you ever thought about changing Oliver’s name?”...