I’d made Elon’s favorite chicken with lemon, garlic, and thyme.
He had promised to try to be home by six.
I imagined us sitting down together after Sophie went to sleep.
Maybe he’d give her a bath.
She’d recently discovered that splashing water with her hands was enormously entertaining.
I wanted him to see it.
But six o’clock came and went.
Then six-thirty.
By 6:45, I was bathing Sophie alone.
At 7:05, I wrapped her in her yellow duck towel and called my husband.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“What is it, Madeline?”
His voice sounded impatient.
Not “Hi, sweetheart.”
Not “How’s Sophie?”
Just my full name.
“I was wondering when you’d be home.”
“I’m working.”
“You said you’d try to be back by six.”
“Plans changed.”
Sophie shifted against my shoulder.
I gently rocked her.
“I made your favorite chicken. And I thought maybe you could help with her bath tonight. She’s started splashing.”
