Chapter 3
Dawn agrees to watch Tyler the next evening. When I tell her why, she gives me a knowing grin and suggests, “You know, Ty can sleep here if you want the house to yourself.”
I start, “It isn’t like that—”
But my son overhears and shrieks for joy. “Please, Daddy? Please, can I? Please?”
In the end, I relent and help him pack an overnight bag. The twins are delighted; the three of them will bed down on sleeping bags in the middle of their bedroom floor, not that I delude myself into thinking any of them will actually get any sleep Friday night. If I’m lucky, Tyler will get a nap before I pick him up. If not, I’ll have a fussy seven year old on my hands all weekend long.
He doesn’t ask me who I’m going out with later, and I don’t offer the information. At his age, I know I didn’
