“I’m just telling you how I feel. I’ve never been able to function without my sleep. You knew that about me, you’ve always known it.”

And me, she thought, you knew the same thing about me. It’s one of our things. We always laughed about it, how well matched we are, that we would both prefer to go home and sleep than stay out all night partying.

“Why should you get to sleep if I don’t?” she said, her chin crumpling.

“Sweetie,” said Patrick. “I know it’s hard, I do. Haven’t I been going through it with you? But it makes sense, if you think about it. There’s no need for both of us to lose sleep, just for the sake of it. And, I’d be much more helpful in the day if I was functioning properly, wouldn’t I?”

“But I need help in the night, Patrick. That’s when it’s worst.”

“Yes, but. I know I shouldn’t bring it up, but I’ve been stressing about work too. I mean, look at the state of me. Can you imagine if I turned up looking like this? I can barely keep my eyes open.”

She shook her head. What was he talking about?

“But you’re not going back to work for another week. You’ve got another five whole days of paternity leave. Plus the weekend. You can’t expect me to do it all.”

“I know. I’m sorry, darling. Don’t cry.” He shifted back onto the couch and put his arm around her. She pointed to the box of tissues and he handed it over so that she could wipe her eyes. For a few seconds he didn’t speak. She thought he’d finished.

Then he said, “But you will be doing it all, won’t you, soon?” He softened his voice, as if that alone would soften his words. “You need to get used to it, don’t you, because let’s face it, I won’t be here after that. I’ll be at work. And as much as I would love to be at home, with my sons, not actually working, one of us has to make that sacrifice.”

It was the impact of what he said, the gut-punch of implications and assumptions. The desolate lonely feeling it triggered in her, as if she’d thought for all this time that she’d been married to someone else entirely, and only now—much too late—she could see his true nature. Not actually working, he’d said, as if looking after the boys wasn’t work. He didn’t care about her. He only cared about himself. Her heart sank, a dinghy with a bullet hole, and the boys felt it. Perhaps they were as connected to Lauren as they thought they were, like it said in that book she’d read about newborn brain development. They were her, from their perspective, and maybe that meant they felt what she felt, for Morgan’s mouth gaped open and he fell off the breast. Riley’s back arched, his whole body tensed. They both started to scream, and Lauren and Patrick took up one twin each, jiggling them up and down, walking in circles that never met.