But he showed up. He went to parent meetings. He learned bedtime voices. He sat through six performances of Luke’s invented song about garbage trucks.

When Violet had nightmares, she began asking for him as often as she asked for Cassandra.

Damon never demanded that the children call him Daddy. One rainy afternoon, three months after Christmas, Violet did it accidentally.

“Daddy, Eleanor fell behind the couch.”

Damon froze. Violet froze too. Cassandra watched from the kitchen doorway. Damon crouched. “Would you like me to get her?” Violet nodded. He moved the couch, rescued the elephant, and handed it back without making the moment larger than she could handle.

That night, after the twins were asleep, Cassandra found him crying quietly in his car. She opened the passenger door. “You could have come inside.”