He held his breath as he came around the corner of the living room, then let out a long sigh of relief. Thank God. The Kid was fast asleep on the couch. Just like he'd been last night at twelve-thirty, when Jack finally got home. He took a deep whiff of the Vermont roast wafting toward him from the kitchen. He'd been so worried the Kid would be gone this morning. Or, worse, that this had all been a dream. "You're up early," Cheryl said as Jack sauntered into the kitchen, feeling good about himself again. "It's only seven-fifteen." Jack pulled a coffee mug down from the closet. Rosario was in her high chair. Cheryl was feeding her. Everything seemed right with his world again. "Yeah, some trucker blew his horn going by the house a few minutes ago," he said, trying to seem pissed about it. "Bastard woke me up." Cheryl scoffed as she steered a spoonful of applesauce into the little girl's mouth. "Nobody blew his horn, Daddy. You were worried Kyle was gone." "I was not, I was--" "What time did you get home last night?" "I'm not sure," Jack answered tersely, pouring a cup of steaming black java, then heading for the table, irritated at the tone she'd interrupted him with.
