AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Another nod. “Night.”
I return the sentiment and start to pull the door shut, only to pause when August whispers my name. “Yeah, buddy?”
“You’re gonna be here in the morning, right?”
And every morning after that.“Promise.”
“Okay.” A third and final nod dismisses me, along with a quiet admission, “She’s in your room.”
I almost don’t believe him, but sure enough, when I enter my bedroom, I find baby and mother—and cat, of course, because Pickle has assumed an unofficial nanny role and, like his brother, rarely strays far from his new sister—sleeping soundly, a rare miracle and a welcome sight considering the sleepless week we’ve had. The last thing I want is to wake them, so I make quick, quiet work of changing, but evidently, my effort is for naught.
When I turn back to the bed, I find Sunday watching me, wearing the same frown as her son, uttering the same confused declaration that makes me feel like I’m missing something. “You’re here.”
“This is my house.”
Sunday flinches. “Yeah,” she whispers her agreement, struggling upright in that slow, wincing way that makes me want to do everything for her so she never has to move again. “About that.” She tucks her legs against the chest and stares at her knees, refusing me eye-contact as she breaks my heart. “I’ve been looking at apartments.”
I swear I hear an audible crack. “What?”
“I found a good one.”
“You’re moving out?”
Sunday nods, still not looking at me.
“You’re gonna move for the third time this year, and with a newborn?”
Her jaw clenches as she straightens, reeking of indignance. “Yup.”
“Sunday, that’s silly.” It’sstupid. It’s ridiculous and unnecessary andfuck, why can’t I breathe? “You can’t move out.”
“I can’t stay here.”
“Sunday, please.”
“No.” She shakes her head, firm and certain and borderline desperate as she repeats, “I can’t stay here.”
I try to tell her she can, I want her to, I want her to stay here with me, but I make the mistake of reaching for her, of wrapping my fingers around her calf, and she spooks. She kicks me off and scuttles backwards, back flush against the headboard, as far from me as she can get. “You don’t get it,” she all but sobs, the sudden rush of emotion as heartbreaking as it is arresting. “Ithurtsto be here, Cass. All this house does is remind me that you’re not in it. That you left and youlied. That I’m alone again because you didn’t want me. Thank you for letting me stay as long as you did, but I can’t do it anymore.”
“I didn’t let you do anything. This is your house too. I’ll stay somewhere else, I’ll move, but you stay here,please.”
Her frown deepens. “What do—”
“Please,” I repeat. “Please don’t leave. Please stay here.”
So hellbent on defiance, she keeps shaking her head, and I find myself manually putting a stop to it, cupping her cheeks with my palms. “No,” I insist, my turn to be firm and certain and desperate. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Not now. Not ever.
“That’s not fair. Double standards, much?” When I frown, she adds, “You can leave but I can’t?”
God, I couldn’t have come up with a more perfect segue if I tried.
“I’m not going anywhere either, Sunday. I quit.”
* * *
“What?”
