Derek was standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Your wife needs rest. Sophie sleeps with me tonight. Take her down.” June dried her hands, her voice gentle. “Don’t let her keep talking. She talks enough, there won’t be enough doctors for her.”
Derek stood in the doorway. Two seconds. He didn’t look at me.
“I’ll take her down first,” he said.
He bent down and lifted Sophie off the couch. She was barely awake, slumped on his shoulder, little hands fisted in his collar. He didn’t turn around. He started toward the stairs.
“Mommy…” she murmured into his neck, half asleep.
“Mommy’s downstairs.” He paused. “Tomorrow… she’ll come up tomorrow.”
I stood where I was, watching the door close behind him.
Behind me, June turned the tap back on, head down, voice low. “If you’re smart, you’ll go to that doctor yourself and tell him you’re stressed. I’ll still let you live here. If you make trouble — she’s down tonight, and she’ll be back up tomorrow night. One staircase between you. You can’t stop me.”
