He stopped when he saw the photographs spread across my blanket.
“And we’re doing it now.”
And my heart leaped. It actually leaped.
After hours of wanting him, there he was, and every cell in my body wanted to say you’re here, hold her, look at her.
Then I remembered why he hadn’t been there to begin with, and the feeling went sour.
there he was
“Look at what your mother sent you.” I held out her cropped photograph. “And look at this.”
I turned my mother’s phone toward him.
“You were right behind us, holding the birthday cake.”
He leaned in.
“And look at this.”
In the wider picture, he was grinning, sparklers burning above the cake, barely two feet from Daniel and me.
He looked from the screen to the photograph on my blanket.
Nobody spoke.
“The babies look like…” his mother started.
