Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
“I didn’t want you driving that old car with the babies,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “It wasn’t safe.”
“You took them so I couldn’t leave.”
He looked away, his eyes tracking a squirrel running along the power line. “We can fix this, Chloe. We can go to counseling.”
He took a step closer, the smell of his expensive cologne reaching me, the same one he bought for the trip. “I didn’t think you’d actually leave. I thought you were just tired.”
“I was tired,” I said, looking at his clean shirt. “But I wasn’t blind.”
“I can change,” he said, rubbing his neck again, his fingers red against his skin. “I’ll help more. I’ll stay home on weekends.”
I looked down at my own hands, where the gold band felt loose on my finger.
“I wanted a partner, Ryan, not a photographer,” I said.
He winced, his mouth tightening into a thin line. “You can’t just take them away from their home.”
“This is their home now,” I said, turning to open the screen door.
