“You and Jack did absolutely nothing. I love you both exactly the same as I did before your trip.”
“Are you still coming to my winter concert?”
“Front row if they let me.”
“They won’t. Parents sit in rows.”
“Then the best row available.”
That satisfied her.
After we hung up, I sat on my sofa and cried for the first time.
Not because Daniel had left me home.
Not because of the money.
Because an eight-year-old child had immediately wondered whether an adult’s departure was her fault.
I had promised myself I would never let that happen.
At four thirty, Daniel texted.
We’re home. Can you come at six?
I replied.
Yes.
Then, after thinking, I added:
I would prefer that we talk after the children are settled.
