I’m standing there, thinking this has to be some kind of weird, elaborate joke, but he keeps talking, his voice a tidal wave of self-serving logic. “I already told them you’re their new mommy. Their stuff is all packed. Bedtime is at eight. Ben still needs pull-ups at night, and Lily won’t eat vegetables unless you mix them into mac and cheese.”

I literally cannot speak. My jaw is open, but no words come out.