Ninety-one

Brianna insists on using her Rollator to get inside the house. It relieves me because the last thing I need is any form of body contact. Numb, I help her to her room and rush past El but barely get past the twins. 

“Daddy,” they scream and jump on me, forcing me to stop. 

El stares at me worriedly but I don’t offer her an explanation. I barely remember hugging and kissing my babies, everything is a blur as El ushers them away. 

I jog up the stairs to my room and stop in front of the wardrobe. A second, two second, I’m not sure how many seconds pass. Vincent’s confession plays in my head like a broken record and my breath hitches.

Oh, God. 

I grip the door of the wardrobe. 

I didn’t do it. 

His words soak my being. It can’t be. The death certificate stated the accident as the cause of death. My hands run through my hair, I should have put my fingers in his mouth th