She was going to be happy. She’d planned that. Alright, it hadn’t really gone to plan to date in many respects but she would have come good. She would have turned her setup around by getting rid of the jackass. And she really would have done.

She missed our boy. She missed him too much to let just another asshole come in between but she knew as long as the asshole was around, the boy would not be. So I know… that’s how I know she would have come good.

In my mind she would have worked her way up in a prestigious company. Amazing business brain. She would have been busy and we would have worked out the childcare arrangements between us. I would have been flexible, I promise.

She would have had him during the week one week, and I the weekend and then we’d switch. But only if that made him happy too. He would have been happy, though. He loved having both of us.

We’d have planned his 18^th birthday party, with the help of our spouses. We’d both be married then, that’s for sure.  Her husband and I would get on really well and laugh and joke as she and my wife rolled their eyes at us in unison. We’d have pulled out embarrassing childhood photos to show his girlfriend and we’d have taken him to University on his first day – together. She would cry as she left him in some halls of residence building with his belongings in a box and an exciting future at his fingertips. I would hug him and try not to cry because Dads can’t get away with it like Mums can. We’d stop for something to eat on the drive back to Manchester and she would still be crying, but more with pride now than concern.

But life is cruel. So I’ll take care of the childcare arrangements. I love having him here all the time anyway and I don’t mind planning his birthday parties. Driving him up to university in 12 years or so alone – that’s not a problem either. But I wish she could have been there. His smile is only half a smile without her.