She said she had only meant for Tessa to sit with Miles while he napped.
She said she had expected to be back quickly.
She said Miles had been fed.
She said Tessa was responsible for her age.
She said a lot of things that afternoon.
None of them changed the kitchen floor.
None of them changed Tessa’s shaking hands.
None of them changed the fact that my daughter had whispered, “Dad, I can’t hold the baby anymore,” because she thought making that call might get her in trouble.
I set the hidden phone on the counter between us.
“Unlock it.”
She stared at me.
“No.”
“Then don’t.”
That caught her off guard.
I wasn’t going to wrestle a phone away from her or turn the kitchen into something the kids would remember for the rest of their lives.
“But don’t stand here and tell me this was one mistake if you’re not willing to show me the one thing that could settle that.”
