Austin’s face dropped at once, his little shoulders going tight as a cloud of guilt passed over his face.

“Did Dad go away because I brought my birthday money downstairs yesterday?” he asked in a tiny, heartbroken whisper.

“No, Austin, absolutely not,” I promised, squeezing his hands tight.

“Your dad is staying at Uncle Luke’s because of choices and mistakes he made himself, and it has nothing to do with you.”

“Is he ever going to come back home, Mom?” he asked, staring down at his sneakers.

“I don’t know yet what’s going to happen with our marriage, honey, but your dad loves you very much, and he’ll be here every single afternoon to help with the babies and spend time with you,” I reassured him.