Chapter 4 - HE CAME
My father lived almost two hours away.
He made the drive in ninety-three minutes.
At 3:51 a.m., headlights swept across my living room wall.
A truck door slammed.
Then someone knocked.
Not loudly.
Three careful taps.
I opened the door.
My father looked older.
That was my first thought.
His hair had turned mostly gray.
There were deeper lines around his eyes.
He wore jeans, work boots, and an old navy jacket.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Seven years stood between us.
Then June cried.
Dad looked toward the sound.
“Which one?”
“June.”
“And the other?”
“Sadie.”
He nodded.
“Tell me what you need.”
Not where have you been.
Not why didn’t you call sooner.
Not I told you Brandon was selfish.
Just that.
Tell me what you need.
“Sleep.”
“Then go sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“You don’t know their schedule.”
“Write it down.”
“June has reflux.”
“Write it down.”
“Sadie—”
“Audrey.”
His voice was gentle.
I looked at him.
“I raised a baby once.”
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
“You also broke a washing machine trying to clean my stuffed rabbit.”
“That rabbit survived.”
“It had one ear.”
“Still survived.”
For the first time in days, something inside me loosened.
Dad washed his hands.
Then picked up June.
Awkwardly at first.
Carefully.
Like she was made of glass.
She stared at him.
He stared back.
“Well,” he whispered, “you look exactly like your mother when she’s mad.”
I swallowed.
He noticed.
His expression changed.
But he didn’t say anything else.
I wrote feeding instructions on a legal pad.
Then rewrote them because my handwriting looked insane.
Dad took the pen away.
“Bed.”
“I need to sanitize—”
“I know what sanitize means.”
“Dad.”
“Audrey.”
I looked toward the twins.
He followed my eyes.
“I will wake you if anything feels wrong.”
I still hesitated.
Then he said the words I hadn’t heard from another adult all week.
“I’ve got them.”
I went upstairs.
I don’t remember lying down.
I woke at 8:36.
Four and a half hours.
The longest stretch of sleep I’d had in weeks.
For one terrifying second, I thought something had happened because the house was quiet.
I ran downstairs.
Dad was standing in the kitchen.
A bottle was warming in a mug of hot water.
Sadie slept against his shoulder.
June was awake in the bassinet, kicking her feet.
Every dirty bottle had been washed.
The dishwasher was running.
Coffee was brewing.
I stared.
Dad raised an eyebrow.
“They come with an instruction manual?”
“No.”
“Terrible design.”
I laughed.
Then cried.
He didn’t come toward me.
He waited.
That somehow made me cry harder.
Finally I crossed the room and hugged him.
My father’s arms closed around me.
Seven years disappeared for maybe three seconds.
Then my phone buzzed.
A social media notification.
Someone had tagged Brandon in a photo.
I almost ignored it.
Then I saw the preview.
Four men.
Three women.
A dock.
A bottle of champagne.
And standing beside my husband, smiling with her hand resting on his shoulder, was a woman I had never seen before.
The caption said:
College family reunited at last.
I zoomed in.
Then I looked at the messages Brandon had sent me.
Guys weekend.
No wives.
Just the four of us.
Dad saw my face.
“What is it?”
May you like
I turned the phone toward him.
“I think my husband lied to me.”
