6

Finally, finally, we are on the road. It took forever, but we are on our way to safety. When Sara threw a fit because she couldn't take her scrapbook collection, and Steaven bit me because i told him he wasn't packing fast enough, i just threw some stuff and a bag and strapped them into dad's car.

As I rub the still stinging bite mark on my arm, I study the man sitting next to me, and i realize that we really do look alike. I don't have his broad shoulders or chiseled jawline, but we have the same sparkling bluegreen eyes. The same nutmeg hair. The same elvish face.

Suddenly, he turns and sees me looking at him. And- here's the kicker- he smiles. Like he enjoy being scrutinized. Or maybe he just likes the fact that he has his children back. Or maybe-

"Libby? Helloooo?"

"Hmm?" I ask, blushing.

He laughs. But not in a okay, where's the nearest insane asylum? way. More in a you crack me up way. "I said, sound sleepers, aren't they?" he chuckles as he nods towards the little ones. 

"only when they've had a night like this," I answer truthfully. "It's not everyday they're waken up at 5 in the morning with life changing news."

Silence. Man, do I need a filter. 

"Libby, do you have any questions? We still have 6 hours of driving to do, before we get to our little Wisconsin countryside house. We haven't even left Chicago, so we have plenty of time to talk."

I try to filter through the words burbling up in my chest. Every thing from the meaning of life to who are you. I finally decide on the most important one.

"Why is it so crucial to get to your house?"

"Ahh...." he says, a look of panic written on his face. "Well, uhhh... I guess I'll start from the beginning."