“I’m dying,” I told Kelly into the phone.

“I’ll come over,” my sister said immediately. “Abby and I will distract the kids so you can get a break.”

“No,” I said. “We’re on quarantine. Stomach bug. I don’t want Abby to get sick.”

“Oh no!” Kel said. “The kids picked up something from school?”

“Yup,” I said. “And then me.”

My sister groaned. “That sucks.” A pause. “Anything I can do? I can pick stuff up from the store and leave it on the porch, prison style.”

I shook my head but promptly stopped when it made a wave of dizziness blur my vision. “How is that prison style?” I asked, flopping back onto the couch cushions.

“I don’t know—” A cry echoed through the airwaves. “Oh, that’s Abby.”

“Mom,” Allie whined, suddenly appearing like whack-a-mole next to the couch arm. “I’m hungry.”

I put one finger up, indicating that Allie needed to wait. “I think both of our kids are saying the same thing, albeit in different ways,” I told my sister. “Thanks for the offer. I’ll see you soon.”

“Call me if you need anything—” Another angry cry interrupted her. “Love you. Bye!”

I hung up and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to summon the energy to move. The problem with being the last to get sick was that the first person to fall was usually recovered by then, and if patient zero was a kid . . .

Recovery time was seriously limited.

“Mooom!” Allie said. “I’m so, so, so, so, so hungry.”

My lips twitched, and I opened my eyes. “Let’s see what I can do about that, okay?”

We walked into the kitchen together, and I pulled a bottled sports drink out of the fridge, then some saltines from the pantry. I poured her a small glass and put a handful of crackers on a napkin.

“Start with this. You hold it down, and I’ll make you something else, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, spraying the table with a fine mist of cracker crumbs and spit, since she’d already gobbled down several of the bland squares.

I sank down in the chair opposite her, the sleeve of crackers in my hand. My stomach was not ready for anything, not even the cardboard-like snack.

Allie didn’t seem to mind the taste, however. She pounded down the little meal and asked for more.

“Let’s watch one episode of Bubble Guppies, and if you don’t throw up then I’ll make you dinner, okay?”

Brown eyes fixed me in place. “Mac and cheese,” she said. “From the blue box.”

I shuddered. It was a favorite of kids everywhere. Pasta and fake, powdery cheese that tasted like socks.

It was also probably the single meal that I had enough energy to make at that point in time.

“Deal,” I said.

“Woohoo!” Allie streaked from the kitchen and launched herself onto the couch. “Bubble Guppies and mac and cheese!”

Max glanced up from his iPad—yes, they both had an iPad and don’t judge, I’d bought them on sale last Black Friday. But they had literally paid for themselves that afternoon alone. “Bubble Guppies is stupid.”

“Is not!”

“Is too.”

Distraction was key when a parent was sick and alone.

“Max, pick a new app to download,” I interrupted. “Allie, what episode?”

And with Rob working long hours—

“Really?” Max said. “I can?”

“I want the parade one,” Allie said and danced around. “I love Bubble Guppies!”

“Pick one from your wish list,” I told him, not wanting him to spend the entire episode deciding. “Allie, it’s starting,” I said after deftly scrolling through the On Demand program and choosing the correct episode.

“How about this one?”

I glanced at the price—$4.99—and grimaced. I hated paying for apps, let alone that much. Still, I really wanted twenty-three minutes of peace and quiet.

And so I caved.

Ten seconds later, it was downloading and I was closing my eyes on the couch.

“Mom! It’s over!”

My eyes flew open. Why were my kids always shouting?

“Want to watch another one?” I asked, voice gravelly as I struggled to sit up.

“No,” she said. “I’m hungry!”

My sigh was pathetic. I knew it was. It still didn’t have any effect on my kids.

“I’m hungry too,” Max announced.

“You still have to pass the puke test.” I shoved myself up from the couch.

He giggled. “You said puke.”

“Yup.” I smiled and smacked a kiss on top of his head. “We’ve had a lot of puke all over the place today.”

Wiry arms wrapped around my middle. “I love you, Mommy.”

And my heart melted. “Come on,” I said, hugging him back. “Let’s go cook up some cardboard.”

The bed dipped, and I rolled over to see Rob sitting on the side of the bed.

“Is there anything for dinner?” he asked.

“Not today,” I said. “We were all sick.”

His dark brows pulled down. “You were? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I texted you three times.”

“You did? I didn’t get them.” He pulled out his cell and unlocked it. The little green box had a red bubble with a three in the upper right corner. He tapped it and, lo and behold, my messages were there.

“Shit,” he muttered.

I reached over him, tapped the lower case “i” on the right side of the screen, and swiped off the mute function.

“Maybe don’t put your wife on Do Not Disturb?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize—”

I sighed and flopped over to my side, facing away from him. My heart felt fragile, ready to shatter into a million pieces. I kept telling myself that I was crazy, that things were fine and we were going through a rough patch.

But . . .

This didn’t feel like a rough patch. It felt like—

I bit my lip hard, stopping the thought before it could completely materialize.

We’d worked through tough times before. Every couple had ups and downs. What made us different was that we could talk to each other about anything.

Or we used to, anyway.

I turned my head so I could see him over my shoulder. “Not realizing things seems to be the theme with you lately, Rob. Can we talk about what’s going on? It’s not like you to be so detached.”

Silence.

He sat six inches away from me, eyes on his phone, and he didn’t even look at me.

He. Didn’t. Look. At. Me.

In that moment, I felt ten years old again. Begging my mom to see me. To want me. To value me.

And in that moment, I hated my husband for making me feel that way.

I wasn’t that little girl any longer. I knew my own worth. I—

Didn’t beg for love. That came internally. I loved myself.

Because Rob had given me the strength to learn how.

His touch made me jump.

It was a gentle caress, one soft brush of his thumb beneath my eye to collect a drop of moisture I hadn’t realized was there.

“Miss, I—”

His phone rang. He glanced down at it, and I held my breath, waiting for him, wishing he would decline it.

He didn’t.

His finger swiped across the screen.

“Hello?” Rob said and walked from the room.