PART 1: THE TRIP HE CHOSE OVER HIS FAMILY
I used to think exhaustion was the hardest part of raising six-month-old twins. Then my husband packed a bag for a four-day fishing trip and left me alone with two crying babies.
That evening, Lila was screaming against my shoulder while Ivy cried in her bouncer. A pot was nearly boiling dry, dirty bottles covered the counter, and I had not eaten since breakfast.
Brandon walked in, loosened his tie, and frowned.
“I could hear them from the driveway,” he complained. “Can’t you do something?”
“They’re teething,” I said. “Could you wash the bottles while I settle them?”
“I just got home.”
“And I’ve been doing this since five this morning.”
He looked around the kitchen as though the mess had personally offended him.
“You’re home all day, Amy. I work, and then I come home to chaos.”
“I’m also working. I’m caring for two babies.”
Brandon sighed. “I’m done for the day.”
I nearly laughed. I had slept in forty-minute stretches the night before, yet he believed his responsibilities ended when he walked through the door.
That was when I noticed the green duffel bag beside the entrance.
“Why is your bag packed?”
