Damon lifted her.
At five, she was getting too heavy for him to carry casually.
He did not care.
She wrapped both arms around his neck.
“I’m sorry.”
Damon froze.
“What are you sorry for?”
“For making you come home.”
He pulled back.
“What?”
Ava started crying harder.
“Mom said you don’t like when we call you at work.”
Damon looked at Renee.
She stared at the table.
“I didn’t call.”
Ava continued quickly.
“I didn’t.”
“No.”
Damon brushed hair away from her face.
“You did not make me come home.”
“But you were supposed to be in Washington.”
His stomach tightened.
“How did you know that?”
“Mom told us.”
Damon had been in Washington for two days negotiating a merger involving Brooks Development Group, the commercial real-estate company he built with two partners after college.
He was not supposed to return until nearly midnight.
The final meeting ended early.
Instead of staying for dinner with investors, Damon took the first train north.
He wanted to surprise the children.
Noah had a science project presentation the next morning.
Ava had been asking him for three days to braid one side of her doll’s hair because, according to her, “Dad does it wrong in a funny way.”
Damon had imagined walking in around seven.
He had arrived at 6:04.
Early enough to see something nobody expected him to see.
He looked at Noah.
The boy stood near the table, shoulders tense.
“Come here too.”
Noah walked toward him.
Damon could not lift both children, so he put one arm around his son while holding Ava with the other.
For several seconds, they remained like that.
Renee watched.
Something in her expression changed.
Not anger.
Exclusion.
Damon saw it.
He had seen versions of that expression before.
He had not understood it.
Not until now.
Renee wiped one cheek.
“This is exactly what happens.”
Damon looked at her.
“What?”
“They cry, and you immediately become the hero.”
His face hardened.
“My daughter was hit.”
“She was disciplined.”
“No.”
Renee’s voice rose.
“You’re never here for the two hours before.”
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t see me asking her to eat.”
Ava whispered:
“I ate.”
“You don’t see Noah sneaking food upstairs.”
Noah’s face changed.
Damon noticed.
“You don’t see them fighting every rule I create.”
“What food?”
Noah stared at the floor.
Damon looked toward him.
“What food have you been sneaking upstairs?”
“Nothing.”
Renee laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Damon’s eyes narrowed.
“Noah.”
The boy’s mouth trembled.
“Crackers.”
“Why?”
No answer.
Damon waited.
Noah began crying again.
“Because Ava gets hungry.”
Something inside Damon stopped.
“What?”
Renee shook her head.
“Do not encourage this.”
Damon looked at her.
“Encourage what?”
“The performance.”
Noah shouted:
“It’s not!”
Damon crouched enough that he and his son were closer to eye level.
“Tell me.”
Noah looked frightened.
“Mom gets mad if we ask for extra.”
Damon’s gaze moved toward the dinner table.
Then the kitchen.
Then back to Renee.
“What does extra mean?”
“Food.”