“I told the guys I’d go months ago,” he said from the bedroom while folding his swim trunks. “It’s only four days.”
I stood in the doorway, holding Oliver against my shoulder as he fussed softly.
“Four days?” I repeated quietly.
Jason looked up at me as if he couldn’t understand the problem.
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “Your mom lives twenty minutes away.”
“My mom works full-time,” I replied.
“Well, you’re home anyway.”
Those words stung more than I expected.
You’re home anyway.
As if caring for a newborn around the clock while recovering from surgery was the same as taking a vacation.
Oliver began to cry harder, and I gently rocked him while Jason zipped his suitcase.
