Then, just as abruptly, he stood up.
“I’ll be back in 30—forgot something at the store,” he said, already heading for the door.
“Wait, what about the car show?” Jake asked.
“We’ll go later,” Brad mumbled, disappearing.
That “30 minutes” turned into five hours. No calls. No texts. The boys kept asking when their dad would be back.
I tried to stay calm, but as time ticked by, I realized we’d missed the car show completely.
“Are we still going?” Jake asked quietly, hope in his voice.
I knelt beside them and said, “I’m so sorry, sweethearts. It’s too late now.”
They were heartbroken. Tommy whispered, “But Dad said…”
I wanted to cry.
At 7:30 p.m., as I was helping them brush their teeth, the front door flew open.
Brad was back, with six of his buddies in tow, laughing and shouting like they were at a tailgate party.
“Hey, babe! What’s for dinner?” Brad called out, grinning
