He looked at our newborn son.
Then at me.
His eyes were red, but I had assumed that was because nb he had been awake beside me through fourteen hours of labor.
“I promise I’ll explain.”
Then he kissed my forehead.
Picked up his jacket.
And walked out of the room.
My name is Claire Bennett.
At that moment, I was thirty-four years old, exhausted beyond anything I had ever experienced, lying in a private maternity room at Rosewood Medical Center in Briarhaven, Westland, with our first child sleeping against my chest.
