We arrived home late in the evening. Fiorelli was still asleep when the car stopped. I turned to him, watching him kill the engine of the car and then my eyes went to our daughter who was in her car seat.

"I'll carry her," James said while looking at me. "Go ahead and get in the house. You must be tired."

"But you are the one who's driving," I replied, weird to hear him saying that. I should have been the one who said that to him and not the other way around.

"And you took care of Fiorelli all the way here." He put his hand on top of...