Denver about a month before the babies came. I hadn’t accepted it.”
My stomach turned.
“You had an escape plan.”
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“I do.”
He stared at the table.
“The morning we were discharged, I looked at those three car seats, and I couldn’t breathe. I went outside. I sat in the car. Then I started driving.”
My eyes filled with tears.
Not because I wanted him back.
Because I could see it.
While I had sat inside wondering whether he was hurt, he had simply driven away.
“How far did you get before you decided not to turn around?”
He looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
“Ten miles? Fifty?”
“Allison—”
“When did three newborn babies become easier to abandon?”
His eyes dropped.
“They didn’t.”
“Did you ever call the hospital?”
“No.”
“Did you ever check whether we got home?”
A long silence.
“No.”
