His face tightened. “So have I.”
The answer might have angered me once. Tonight, it made me sad.
“Then why didn’t we say anything?” I asked.
Arthur sat slowly on the edge of the armchair. He looked around the room, not at the decorations or the furniture, but at the life we had tried to build inside them.
“I think I didn’t know how to be honest without sounding weak,” he said. “After Chloe was born, you seemed so capable. You went back to duty, handled night feedings, scheduled appointments, packed everything like you were preparing for a mission. I felt useless.”
I stared at him.
“You felt useless, so you disappeared?”
“I know how that sounds.”
“Do you?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Chloe began to fuss. I bounced her gently, murmuring into her hair. Arthur watched us with an expression I could not fully read.
“I missed things,” he said. “Then I felt guilty. Then I stayed away because being home reminded me of what I’d missed.”
“That left me missing even more.”
“I know.”
I sat on the sofa, not because I wanted comfort, but because my legs were tired. Chloe settled in my lap, playing with the edge of my name tape. Her small fingers traced the letters Sterling.
Arthur leaned forward.
“Can I hold her?”
The question was quiet. It held no demand.
I looked at Chloe. She looked at him and smiled a little, uncertain but hopeful.
That broke my heart in a new way.
“Not yet,” I said.
Arthur nodded, accepting the answer though it hurt him. That mattered.
A key turned in the front door.
Victoria stepped back inside.
I had thought she left with the others, but apparently she had only gone outside long enough to gather herself. Her coat was wrapped tight around her, her pearls bright against her throat. She looked at Arthur, then at me, then at Chloe.
“I want to speak to my son alone,” she said.
“No,” Arthur replied.
Victoria blinked.
He stood. “Anything you need to say about my wife or my daughter, you can say in front of them.”
Her mouth trembled, whether from anger or something more fragile, I couldn’t tell.