He took a frantic step toward my chair, the words spilling out of him in a desperate, breathless rush that broke whatever was left of my composure.

“I’ll never pick up Hailey or Mason by myself, because you told me their necks are too wobbly for a kid to hold alone,” he promised, his eyes wide.

“Austin, stop, please,” I managed to say, but he couldn’t hold back the flood of worries that had obviously been piling up in his head for days.

“And I can pour my own dry cereal in the morning without spilling milk, and if Mason starts crying while you’re feeding Hailey, I can find his green pacifier for you,” he insisted.

Peter suddenly shot to his feet so fast that his wooden chair shrieked across the floor, breaking the quiet hum of the refrigerator.