Somehow, during our discussion, he’s ended up closer than he was before. And I didn’t even notice until his hands are raised and he shoves me, hands flat against my chest, not hard enough to hurt, but enough that I take a step back. “Then I’m not leaving.”
Addie’s laugh, brighter than the sun, drifts from around back. And as much as I hate being part of the problem, I can’t have it around her.
So I reach for my wallet.
He watches me count it out without a word. A hundred dollars in twenties. I hold them out, and he snatches them, putting the bills in his back pocket, the eyes that wouldn’t leave my face a moment ago now looking down as he walks toward the beat-up car in the driveway.
I go back into the birthday party, meeting my wife’s eyes with a shake of my head, mouthinggone.
Addie is at the picnic table now, her new sketchbook open in front of her and her paint open off to the side. When I get close enough to see the rainbow she’s painting, she pauses, looking up. “Where’s Uncle Will? I’m making this for him!”
I crouch down beside her, scanning her painting as I rest a hand on her blonde curls. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Your uncle had to go.”
Chapter 1
I know I slept through my alarm before I even open my eyes.
It was a rough night in the ER. And after working regular hours at my own family practice for so many years, it’s an adjustment going back to the long, late hours. But after Jess left, leaving us with a single income, I started picking up a few shifts a week at the local hospital to make up the difference.
The clock reads seven-fifteen.
I got home at six.
Which means I slept for a solid hour, and still, fifteen minutes too long.
Thankfully, my angel of a daughter already put the coffee on, even though she has triple the energy of a regular person without it.
I don’t have time to reheat it, so I drink it cold, standing at the kitchen counter in yesterday’s undershirt and boxers, looking at the room in a state of detachment, regardless of the mess.
Another thing on the list.
The dishes in the sink are from two days ago. Maybe three. And there’s a permission slip on the counter that I still haven’t signed for Ollie’s field trip that was due yesterday, but got lost under the clutter.
The house isn’tdirty. I just have a six year old whose mission in life is to make as much of a mess as possible and a teenager too busy with her own life to help around the house.
I guess that was something Jess did.
I’ve learned, since my wife left me a year ago, that she did a lot of things. Things that I’m ashamed to say I never even thought about before. The house was clean, the groceries were in the fridge, the kids were at school. Those things didn’t magically happen. They were Jess, finding the time to do them even though she was a full-time nurse and a mom and a wife—
If I were to have the chance to speak to her, to ask herwhyshe left us, I would bet money that was a big part of it.
I should have done more.
“Daddy!”
Ollie is standing in the kitchen doorway in his dinosaur pajamas, even though I already woke him up and laid his clothes on his bed before I came downstairs.
“Why aren’t you dressed, bud?” I ask, using every bit of patience I have left in reserve. He’s only six, I remind myself. It’s not his fault I’m exhausted.
“I don’t want to go to school. Ms. Norris is mean,” he exclaims with a stomp of his foot. “She made Carter cry.Andshe didn’t let us go to recess yesterday.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go to school, kiddo. You’re in first grade now. Things might be more challenging at first, but—”
“She’smean, Daddy.”
I set down my coffee mug and crouch to his level, even though my knees are screaming. He looks at me with eyes that are Jess’s, and tears are already threatening to spill, so I have to play this carefully. I learned that the hard way.
“Okay,” I say. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go upstairs and get dressed and go to school—”
