But Denise was already pulling a crumpled flyer from her coat pocket. Momswap Support Group, Tuesdays, Park Slope Library. She’d drawn a little heart next to his name.
“I’m not trying to replace her,” Denise said quietly. “But while she’s gone, you’re stuck with me. So here’s the deal: you run, I chase. Every time.” momswap brooklyn chase
He flinched. Ezekiel. She only used that when she meant business. Except… she wasn’t his mother. Not really. Three weeks ago, some cosmic hiccup swapped every mom in Brooklyn. Chase had come home to find a woman named Denise in his kitchen, stirring gumbo, wearing his real mom’s apron. And his real mom? Last he heard, she was on Staten Island, teaching some kid named Marcus how to fold fitted sheets. But Denise was already pulling a crumpled flyer
“She hums,” he said. “When she’s nervous. Old Motown.” “I’m not trying to replace her,” Denise said quietly