“Can’t I?” Locke’s voice dropped, eyes dimming. “Is Mommy’s phone not with her?”
Ernest didn’t answer.
Locke might have been small, but he wasn’t naive. He knew something was wrong.
“Daddy,” he frowned, lips trembling. “Did you and Mommy fight again? Is she mad at you?”
Ernest couldn’t speak. The words caught in his throat, heavy and useless.
“Daddy, did you make Mommy mad?” Locke’s voice trembled with urgency as he fired off the question.
Cornered, Ernest could only nod and admit, “Yes. We had a little misunderstanding.”
“I knew it!” Locke’s eyes turned red as he clenched his fists. “Daddy, why are you always mean to Mommy?”
The accusation hit hard. Ernest stood there, helpless under the weight of his son’s words. Locke wriggled in his arms and puffed out his cheeks.
“Put me down! I don’t want you!”
“Locke!”
“You’re mean! I don’t want you! I want Mommy!”
“Locke!”
Ernest tightened his hold, trying to keep him from slipping out of his grasp. “That’s enough. Stop fussing. It’s bedtime.”
With one arm wrapped securely around him, Ernest carried Locke back to his room and gently placed him on the bed.
Locke glared at him, still furious. “Bad Daddy.”
Ernest let out a quiet sigh and stayed calm. “And are you being a good boy? What did Mommy say about bedtime?”
“Eight-thirty…” Locke muttered, avoiding his gaze.
? g?ν?
Ernest pointed to the clock on the nightstand. “And what time is it now?”
Locke’s shoulders slumped as he peered at it. “Eight-forty…”
“Then why aren’t you asleep yet?” Ernest’s voice softened, but his eyes were firm. “Do you want to make Mommy sad too?”
Locke’s lips quivered. He said nothing for a moment, then shook his head. Of course not. He wanted to be good. So he lay down, pulled the blanket over himself, and squeezed his eyes shut.
“I’m going to sleep now!”
Ernest couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. He tucked the blanket around him and smoothed his hair. At least for now, Locke was still easy to soothe.
“Daddy.”
Just as he turned to leave, Locke’s eyes popped open again.
“What is it?” Ernest paused, glancing back.
“You have to apologize to Mommy properly and make sure she forgives you. Then she won’t be mad anymore. Okay?” Locke said firmly.
.
.
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