The little girl pouted. "No, I can't. I have to help Mommy keep an eye on Daddy."
"Okay. Then you can live with Daddy from now on." Damian Sinclair lifted her into the child seat in the back, fastening her seat belt.
"That won't work either." The little girl shook her head. "Mommy will cry if she's all alone."
Damian's hand paused. He asked, "When you were overseas, did Mommy often cry by herself?"
"Not really, Mommy was super busy." The little girl started counting on her fingers. "Mommy has classes, and she has to work. She's busy busy every day, sometimes she only comes home in the middle of the night. But sometimes I see Mommy hiding somewhere by herself, wiping away tears. Daddy, you can't tell Mommy, okay?"
She's so stubborn—holding herself together in front of the kids, and only occasionally hiding away to cry. She must have reached her limit before she'd need to let it all out like that.
Whenever Damian pictured her crying, his heart ached in waves.
