After Tyler’s tucked into bed, I turn on the nightlight beside his bed and turn off the overhead light. I tiptoe out the door, his giggles following me into the hall. The door gets pulled almost all the way shut behind me—Tyler likes me to leave it open just a crack, enough so I can slip two fingers in between the door and the jamb. I have to do it, too, to show him the opening is the way he likes it.
Once he sees my fingers poke into the room, he sighs. “Night, Daddy.”
“Night, sport,” I say softly. Then I hurry back to the living room, where Greg waits.
The television is off, the lights dimmed. The beer bottles have been cleared away, and on the coffee table is the remaining bottle of wine from the night and two wine glasses half-full. Greg relaxes on the sofa, his head turned towards
