Despite knowing that Kaira was perfectly safe, Jordy couldn’t slow his rabbiting heart or hurried strides into the den, even if he wanted to. The sight that greeted him hurt his heart. Kaira stood crying in the middle of the room, clutching her stuffed armadillo and staying out of reach of Rowan, who sat dejected and miserable on the couch, still reaching out for her despite her clearfuck-offbody language.
“Daddy!” Kaira cried when he stepped through the door, and Jordy crouched down and pulled her into his arms. “Daddy, I missed you!” She burrowed in as if she could actually climb into him for safety and warmth.
“Shh, peanut,” he murmured into her hair. “Did you have a rough day?”
Kaira hiccupped and clung tighter.
Jordy shushed her and rubbed her back. When he looked up and caught Rowan’s eye, he suddenly felt like he should be giving Rowan the same treatment. He sat with slumped shoulders and tugged at his shirt, thousand-yard-staring at the wall while worrying at his lip.
“Hey,” Jordy said softly.
Rowan’s eyes snapped to his.
“You need a break. Go have some of that disgusting water of yours, maybe grab something to eat or go listen to music or whatever you need to decompress. I’m going to put this one to bed.”
It was a little early for bedtime, but Jordy was pretty sure nothing would salvage this day for Kaira. She needed a hard reset, which would only come from a solid ten hours of sleep.
The bedtime routine took longer than usual since Kaira was extra clingy, but she finally passed out halfway through the second reading of her third book, and Jordy gently extricated himself from her octopus arms, kissed her good night one last time, and crept out of her room.
He found Rowan in the kitchen, slumped over at the breakfast bar with his head in his hands.
Jordy grabbed a water from the fridge, and Rowan’s head shot up.
“I’m so sorry,” Rowan said, voice rough. “You must hate me. She hates me. This was a horrible idea—”
“Woah.” That train of thought needed to hit the emergency brakes. “Kaira doesn’t hate you, and this wasn’t a terrible idea.”
“Jordy, did you not see the texts? They’re a pretty good chronicle of why this was a bad idea.”
“No, they are a chronicle of a very badday—a thing that children have, just like adults, because they’re people.”
“Jordy, she hates me.”
Jordy blew out a slow breath. Rowan might be used to children, but he wasn’t used to living with one. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Rowan threw up his hands dramatically. “As you know, she was totally fine this morning until you left, and then everything I did was wrong.”
“Okay. Like what?”
“Like I couldn’t feed her.”
“So you forgot where the kitchen was?” Jordy prodded, because he needed Rowan to get over his drama and start answering the questions.
“She asked for Cheerios, but I poured the milk wrong, so she wouldn’t eat them. So I made her toast, but the jam was all wrong.” Rowan tugged at his hair.
Jordy raised an eyebrow but didn’t point out that Kaira was not picky in the slightest about either of those things. He didn’t think hearing that there was no secret milk or jam rule would comfort Rowan right now. “Then what?”
“Then we tried to color, but I kept picking the wrong colors, so we switched to My Little Ponies, but apparently I don’t know the correct way of moving around horses. She wanted to watch TV, but I said no because you always say no to morning television, and she stomped off to her room.” Rowan huffed and looked up at Jordy with wide, distraught eyes. “Is it bad I was almost grateful for her self-imposed isolation?”
“Definitely not.” Jordy would have been equally relieved. “I’m guessing lunch was just like breakfast.”
“Yeah. I made her sandwich wrong and cut the carrots wrong and then gave her the wrong juice.”
“Is that what ended up on the floor?”
“She threw it,” Rowan said bleakly.
Jordy winced. “What did you do?”
