A little bit of water on the floor doesn’t matter, not really. I send a glance to Henry to see if I can tell what happened earlier, but no such luck.
I’m pretty sure whatever it is matters a lot more than bathwater on the floor.
After her bath, we lie on either side of her in the bed and take turns reading stories because she says she’s not tired. After my third and Henry’s fourth, she shoves us away.
“Get outta here so I can sleep, guys.”
I start to laugh. I shouldn’t. She shouldn’t be allowed to speak to her parents that way. Still, I’m trying to teach her to state her needs and emotions.
“Hey,” Henry chastises quietly, gently. “You were the one asking for all those stories.”
She wraps her arms around Henry’s neck. “Thank you, Daddy. You’re the best story guy.”
“I’m the best story guy.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Can’t beat that.”
“And Mommy’s the best story lady.”
The smile Henry gives me is priceless, everything. I thrill at the thought of telling him my new decisions … that maybe I’m ready to try for real.
We switch off the lamp and she finally drifts off to sleep, but neither of us do. He sits up on his elbow, motions with his head to the door and we quietly slip off the bed, sneak through the bathroom, and into Gabriel’s old room where Henry’s been sleeping.
I’ve waited long enough to ask him. “So, what happened earlier at dinner? Was there someone at the door?”
He opens his mouth and hesitates.
“It’s okay,” I say quietly.
“Quinn, there was someone at the door. And I wasn’t at all prepared.” He sighs and rubs his temples. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.” He sees my expression and his brows go in the air. “It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. I guess.”
“Henry. Who was it?” My voice has lost its softness.
He grates his jaw from side to side, his gaze darting around the room. “There’s a lot I don’t know. But I will share everything I do.”
My heart is hammering in my throat, stuffing up my ears. Whatever this is, it’s serious.
Henry takes in a deep breath, like he’s ready to speak, but there’s a knock on the door.
Chapter 34
Henry
It’s my dad, and instead of looking defeated like he did earlier this evening, he’s got a lightness in his expression that I rarely see.
“Can I talk to you, privately?” he asks me, still standing in the hallway, his gaze darting to Quinn and then back to mine.
“Whatever you say to me, you can say to Quinn.” I reach for her hand, and she takes it.
He bunches up his mouth, blinking rapidly, before he speaks. “If you’re sure, I’m fine with that.”
I open the door wide to allow him to come in.
“Navie’s asleep in the next room, so not too loud, okay?” I tell him as I motion to the chair. He sits, and Quinn claims the corner of the bed closest to him.
“We have to tell everyone about Benson,” I say, lowering on the bed next to Quinn. “You can’t put this off any longer, Dad.”
He holds up a hand. “I know. I told your mother just now.”
I was expecting excuses—hemming and hawing. I was half expecting him to ask me to share the joyous news with Mom.