I stayed under the hot water until my fingers wrinkled.
When I came downstairs, Ryan was sitting on the couch with Emma asleep in his arms.
He looked exhausted.
“She wouldn’t settle.”
I nodded.
“I didn’t get anything done.”
“Neither do I most afternoons.”
He looked toward the laundry.
“At least you don’t have work tomorrow.”
I stared at him.
“Looking after Emma is work, Ryan.”
He fell silent.
“You just spent one hour doing it.”
He looked down at our sleeping daughter.
For once, I didn’t soften the point.
Friday, I asked him to handle Emma again while I prepared for Saturday dinner.
This time he agreed without arguing.
By then, I had almost abandoned my plan twice.
Because I had made one.
A part of me wanted to confront Ryan privately.
Another part wanted to throw his phone against the wall.
But then I kept thinking about Tess.
