Friday, 9:00 a.m., Harborview Terminal.
We had agreed that I would wait at home.
Dillon would take a day to reset, then drive out to meet his daughters in our living room, with the heater on and no crowds.
But I couldn’t resist the thought of surprising him.
I wanted to see his face light up when he met Scarlett and Eloise for the first time.
I wanted to watch him realize they were real.
So, without telling him, I packed the diaper bag, two spare sleepers, six bottles, and a stuffed rabbit, and I strapped both girls into a double carrier on my chest.
Mom had mentioned, twice, that she’d be tied up on Friday with “some ceremony at the harbor.”
I had been awake for nineteen hours.
I nodded, and I forgot.
The Harborview Terminal smelled of diesel, salt air, and burnt coffee.
Gulls screamed over the pier.
