Keith waltzed into the house like he’d just won a game show. Keys tossed into the bowl, shoes kicked off, smugness radiating from every pore. “You know what?” he said casually, as though I hadn’t just spent the last hour pacing the hallway with our red-faced, screaming 12-week-old. “Mom and Dad are going to a resort. They invited me. I’m heading there next week.” I blinked. I hadn’t slept properly in days. My breakfast had been the edge of a granola bar, and I was sipping the last of a lukewarm coffee that had been reheated three times. My body...
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