Tom is standing by his library, his focus entirely on the book shelves. He’s just staring absent mindedly. He has a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Dinner is ready.” I call to him.

He shakes his head, turns slowly and walks straight to me. His steps are slow and calculated. He’s in his pajama shorts and a white vest. His black hair is damp, some of it pasted over his forehead down to his eyebrows and eyes.

He walks barefoot, then stands tall near me. He doesn’t say another word. We haven’t spoken since yesterday in Steven’s nursery. Today, he came from work, showered and locked himself in his study, without seeing me nor Steven.

“Are you okay?” I find myself asking.

He stares blankly at me, his eyebrows arched. I can tell my question took him by surprise. 

He nods once, “Two minutes.” He says.

I walk away. Whatever Natalie said to him on the phone yesterday, has to be bad. He has been even more closed off since that phonecall.