“Was that her?”
I nodded.
“She does that when she’s waking up.”
He smiled through his tears.
“I don’t even know that about my own daughter.”
I had imagined running into his arms.
Instead, I stood beside the door.
“Jeremy.”
He looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
Those words.
Again.
“How long?”
“Six weeks.”
Six weeks of phone calls.
Six weeks of him asking about bottles, naps, first smiles.
Six weeks of me telling him we needed him.
“You lied.”
“I didn’t want you worrying.”
“Do you know what happened at the airport?”
“Daniel told me.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
My voice shook.
“When that soldier touched my shoulder, I thought you were dead.”
Jeremy raised his eyes.
“I thought I’d have to tell our daughters about you instead of introducing them to you.”
