I tried to answer.
But the tears came before the words.
I cried harder than I had at any point that week.
Mom wrapped her arms around me.
And for the first time since Sophie’s birth, I let someone else hold me together.
The following morning, my phone showed fourteen missed calls from Elon.
There were messages too.
“Please call me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I ended things with Sierra.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“I don’t want to lose Sophie.”
I read them.
Then I placed the phone in a drawer.
I went downstairs.
Dad was standing at the stove making pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse.
“For the baby,” he announced.
I looked at him.
“Dad, she’s three months old.”
He thought about that.
“Then these are for you.”
For the first time in days, I laughed without forcing it.
Later that morning, I called Gloria.
