He nodded.
Miles curled his fist into Derek's shirt.
"Being scared doesn't excuse what you said."
"I know."
I'd wanted to see Derek holding one of our sons like that.
Now he finally was.
"Being scared doesn't excuse what you said."
***
A few days later, Derek texted me a photo of our spotless kitchen.
"Cleaned everything. Come home?"
I stared at it, then typed:
"What time does Miles usually take his last bottle?"
The typing dots appeared, stopped, then appeared again.
No answer.
"Cleaned everything. Come home?"
That evening, Derek came to Mom's.
"What do you want me to do, Hope?"
"I want you to stop waiting for instructions."
"I'm trying."
"Then try without making me your manager."
Derek came to Mom's.
He sat across from me.
"I cleaned the house. I thought you'd be happy."
"I'd be happier if you knew why Miles cries differently from Luke."
Derek looked down.
"Then teach me."
"I thought you'd be happy."
