“Hey, babe.”
I close my eyes. His voice is comforting, even though his tone is strained. He’s probably tired—the days are long, but I’m sure he’s counting the days until he comes home again.
“Hey, yourself. You sound tired.”
There’s silence for a moment. It’s not like him. Even when he’s tired, he makes time to speak to me, and that man is never short of a word.
“I’m on my way home. I’ll be on the next flight out.”
“What? Why?” I swallow hard. While I’ve hated him being away, I don’t like the feeling he’s lost his job.
“We’ll talk about it when I get there. I just wanted to let you know I’m coming home.”
We talked a few days ago, and he said nothing about this.What’s happened?
“Mark? What’s going on?”
“Look.” His frustrated tone makes me grip the phone harder before he takes a breath. “Sorry, love. I know this is short and sudden, but I’ve got to get to the airport to get my flight. I love you, Cassie.”
“I love you too.”
“See you when I get there.”
Tossing and turning all night, I don’t get much sleep. What on earth is going on for Mark to be coming home halfway through his contract?
At best, I’m going to kill him for putting me through this worry.
At worst … I’m not even sure where to begin at worst.
I’m a wreck by the morning, and thankful that it’s Saturday and I don’t have to get up and go to work and get Sophie to school.
She bounces to the breakfast table—it’s constantly amazing to me that kids have boundless energy for the weekend that they don’t have during the week.
“Mum? Are you okay?”
I nod. “I just didn't sleep well. But I do have some news for you.” Pausing, I take a sip of coffee. “Mark called me last night and he’s on his way back.”
“Dad’s coming home?”
I nod. “Apparently. He was just about to leave for the airport.”
“Are we going to pick him up?”
Shit. “I didn’t ask. He didn’t ask me to.”
She frowns. “Did the job finish early?”
“I don’t know, hon. Maybe. He didn’t really give me much. I’m not sure which airline he’s coming home on or the flight, so I’m not sure when he’s arriving.”
“That doesn’t sound like him. I thought he’d want a party at the airport.”
I laugh softly. “I’m sure he’s just very tired. Let’s be happy he’s coming home. I’m sure he’ll contact us again when he’s closer.”
It’safter midnight the following day when Mark walks in the door.
Every hour since he last called me, the worst-casescenarios have been running through my head—especially when it’s been radio silence since then.
Of course I’m awake.
