“It’s still mine, Dad.”
Emma joined the call moments later.
After several minutes of teasing over the kittens’ names, Michael grew quieter.
“Dad… you know you’re allowed to miss us, right?”
Greg swallowed.
“I know.”
“Dad… you know you’re allowed to miss us, right?”
Emma said, “We miss you too.”
Then, without missing a beat: “Also, my kitchen sink is making that noise again.”
Greg sat straighter.
“What noise?”
I smiled.
***
That night, Greg picked up his pillow.
I watched him turn toward the guest room.
“We miss you too.”
“Where are you going?”
“Susan needs another feeding soon. I don’t want to wake you.”
Same rule.
Same mistake.
“Greg.”
He stopped.
“Ask me.”
“Susan needs another feeding soon. I don’t want to wake you.”
He stared at me for a second.
Then, quietly:
“Do you mind if I keep their setup downstairs?”
“No.”
“And… do you mind if I come back upstairs between feeds?”
I looked at his pillow.
“That’s where it lives.”
“Do you mind if I keep their setup downstairs?”
His mouth twitched.
“Right.”
Before dawn, his alarm vibrated.
Greg sat up.
“Four o’clock.”
I opened one eye.
