Chapter 1 - Four Days Without Daddy
My husband said, “You wanted to be a mother, so act like one,” then left me alone with our six-month-old twins while he went on vacation.
When he came back, he stopped dead in the doorway.
But to understand why, you need to know what happened during those four days.
My name is Audrey Reed. I was twenty-nine when I married Julian, a handsome, ambitious man who made me feel as if I were the most important person in his world.
We dreamed of becoming parents for years.
When we learned I was pregnant with twins, Julian cried in the doctor's office. He kissed my forehead, squeezed my hand, and whispered, “Two little girls. We're going to have the best family.”
I believed him.
After Ivy and Nora were born, everything changed.
The girls were beautiful, healthy, and completely dependent on us. Ivy had my dark hair and Julian's gray eyes. Nora was blonde, with a tiny dimple that appeared whenever she smiled.
They rarely wanted the same thing at the same time.
When Ivy slept, Nora cried. When Nora finished feeding, Ivy needed changing. Our laundry machine seemed to run continuously, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten a meal while it was still warm.
Julian returned to work two weeks after the birth.
I didn't resent that. We needed his income, and I'd agreed to take a longer break from my graphic-design career.
But slowly, his responsibilities at home disappeared.
He stopped doing night feedings because he had meetings.
He stopped changing diapers because the smell made him nauseous.
He stopped helping with laundry because I supposedly knew how to organize the girls' clothes better.
Whenever I asked for help, he reminded me how exhausted he was.
Eventually, I stopped asking.
Then came Thursday evening.
I was sitting on our cream-colored living-room couch with both girls in my arms. They were hungry, fussy, and refusing to settle.
Julian arrived wearing an expensive gray suit.
He dropped his laptop bag beside the door.
“Why are they always crying when I get home?”
I looked up.
“Because they're babies.”
He sighed.
The coffee table was covered with bottles, burp cloths, and a packet of wipes.
“Jesus, Audrey. This place is a disaster.”
I'd cleaned the living room that morning.
Then Nora spit up.
Ivy needed changing.
The washing machine leaked onto the laundry-room floor.
And I'd spent forty minutes comforting one daughter while trying not to wake the other.
“Could you wash the bottles?” I asked quietly.
Julian loosened his tie.
“I've worked all day.”
“I know. I just need ten minutes.”
He stared at the sink.
Then he said, “I can't keep doing this.”
My stomach tightened.
“Doing what?”
“Coming home to crying babies and a wife who looks miserable.”
I looked down at Nora.
She was gripping the sleeve of my pink pajamas.
“I'm tired, Julian.”
“So am I.”
“I haven't slept more than three hours at a time in months.”
He picked up his laptop bag.
“That's why I'm going fishing.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Tomorrow. Four days with the guys.”
I thought he was joking.
Then he pulled a suitcase from the hallway closet.
“Julian, you can't be serious.”
“I've already booked everything.”
I shifted Ivy against my shoulder.
“Who's going to help me?”
He looked at me as though I'd asked something ridiculous.
“You're their mother.”
“And you're their father.”
He zipped the suitcase.
“I need a break.”
I felt tears forming.
“So do I.”
He stopped.
Then, without looking at the babies, he said the words I would remember for the rest of my life.
“You wanted to be a mother, so act like one.”
I didn't answer.
He left the following morning.
Before going, he kissed the girls on their foreheads and told me not to call unless there was a real emergency.
Then his car disappeared down the driveway.
I stood at the window holding Nora.
Ivy was crying in her bassinet.
For the first time, I wondered whether I'd been abandoned while still technically married.
The first night was terrible.
Both girls woke repeatedly.
At two in the morning, I realized I hadn't eaten dinner.
At three, I cried while warming a bottle.
At four, I sent Julian a message.
I'm really struggling. Can you please come home early?
He replied at nine the next morning.
You'll be fine. Stop worrying.
I stared at the screen.
Then Nora began crying again.
By Saturday afternoon, I felt as though I were moving underwater.
I placed the girls safely in their cribs and stepped into the hallway to call my sister, Caroline.
She answered immediately.
“Audrey?”
I started crying.
“Can you come?”
She didn't ask why.
She simply said, “I'm leaving now.”
Caroline arrived with groceries, clean pajamas, and the kind of expression that told me I should have called weeks earlier.
She took one look at the bottles in the sink.
“Where's Julian?”
“Fishing.”
“Fishing?”
“For four days.”
Her jaw tightened.
She didn't say anything else.
She took over lunch while I showered and slept.
When I woke three hours later, both babies were resting, the kitchen was clean, and Caroline was sitting beside my bed.
“We need to talk,” she said.
My stomach dropped.
“What's wrong?”
She held out her phone.
Someone had posted photographs from a luxury lakeside resort.
Julian was in them.
But there were no fishing rods.
No muddy boots.
No friends from his fishing club.
He was standing beside a beautiful blonde woman in a white sundress.
His arm was around her waist.
Caroline watched my face.
“Do you know her?”
I did.
Her name was Lena Pierce.
Julian's business consultant.
I stared at the photograph until the screen went dark.
Then my phone rang.
It was my mother-in-law.
Diane Reed.
We had never been especially close.
“Audrey,” she said, “Julian tells me you're having trouble managing the girls.”
I closed my eyes.
Then Diane asked something unexpected.
“Is my son actually helping you?”
I started crying again.
“No.”
There was a pause.
Then she said, “I'm coming.”
On Monday afternoon, Julian finally returned.
He opened the front door carrying his suitcase.
“Baby, I'm home!”
He walked into the living room.
Then stopped.
Both girls were resting safely beside me.
Caroline sat at the kitchen table.
A photograph of Julian and Lena lay beside a four-day record of the girls' feedings and care.
And directly across from the front door sat Diane.
His mother.
Julian's smile disappeared.
“Mom?”
Diane slowly stood.
“Sit down, Julian.”
He looked from her to me.
“What the hell is going on?”
May you like
His mother pointed toward the photograph.
“I think it's time you told your wife where you really went.”
