Harry’s boots hit the cold floor before his thoughts fully caught up. “Lydia? Baby girl, what happened?”
“Papa, you gotta come,” she cried. “Mommy says the baby is coming.”
The room suddenly felt too small around him.
Cassidy was not supposed to deliver for another six weeks. Harry knew the exact date because he had marked it on the calendar beside the refrigerator, the same way he had marked Lydia’s first day of kindergarten and Cassidy’s birthday every single year since she was born. Six weeks early was not something a child should be whispering about over the phone in the middle of the night.
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