"Did he ever sleep there while Lucia was sick?" Sofia's face tightened. "Once. She had a cold, not a fever."
Miguel closed his eyes. "He made her breakfast that morning," Sofia added because truth had apparently become an avalanche now. "I was on a client call." Miguel stood up so quickly the chair scraped concrete.
"You let him parent my child while I was offshore." "He made toast." "Do not reduce it because the truth sounds bad." That was the closest Miguel came to shouting that week.
Lucia heard enough through the glass door to appear in the kitchen in her pajamas. Miguel saw her before Sofia did. He stopped immediately, took one breath, and went inside. "Hey, bug," he said softly.
"We woke you. Sorry." Lucia looked scared. "Are you getting divorced?"