"Yeah," he says. "Me too."
Upstairs Maddie yawns.
"Goodnight Daddy," she murmurs.
"Goodnight kiddo," he says.
I hear the light click off.
A minute later Gabriel comes down the stairs.
He stops when he sees me in the kitchen.
For a second neither of us says anything.
The house is quiet.
Daisy snores softly on the couch.
Gabriel rubs the back of his neck.
"She's asleep," he says.
"Good," I reply.
He goes to the sink, grabs a glass, fills it with water, and drinks half of it like he just finished a game instead of tucking in a seven-year-old.
I wonder if he knows I heard.
He sets the glass down and looks at me.
Really looks at me.
Like he is trying to decide whether to say something dangerous.
My pulse kicks once.
Then he glances away.
"Kids ask hard questions," he says.
"They really do," I reply.
He nods once.
That's it.
No explanation.
No confession.
Just that one look hanging in the kitchen between us.
The memory of the party still lingers in the house.
Laughter.
Music.
