And when I opened the door, he got down on his knees.
Right there on the wet welcome mat. On his knees. In the rain.
“Jenna,” he said. “Please. I’m begging you. I’ve been in a hotel for two months. I miss the kids. I miss you. I miss our life. I’ll go to counseling. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll sleep on the couch for a year. Just please let me come home.”
I stood in the doorway in my socks and my old sweatshirt, holding a mug of hot chocolate.
Behind me, I heard little footsteps. Sophie came out into the hallway. She stopped when she saw her father on his knees on the porch.
“Daddy? Why are you on the floor?”
Michael looked up at her. His face was wet with rain and tears.
“Daddy’s just asking Mommy something, sweetheart.”
Sophie looked at him. Then she looked up at me.
