Emma heard the key in the front door at eleven-thirty that night. Her heart hammered as footsteps crossed the hardwood floor, familiar but careful, like Alek wasn't sure he belonged there anymore.
She found him in the kitchen, setting down his suitcase and staring at the breakfast dishes still in the sink from that morning.
"Hi," she said quietly.
"Hi." He looked exhausted, rumpled from travel, his hair sticking up where he'd run his hands through it on the plane.
"How was your flight?"
"Long. How are the kids?"
"Sleeping. Finally. It took three stories and a promise that you'd be here when they wake up."
Alek nodded, guilt written all over his face. "I shouldn't have stayed away so long."
"We both made mistakes."
They stood in their kitchen like polite strangers, the space betwee
