She kicked and screamed like I’d personally insulted her.

“That’s fair,” I said. “Wet clothes are rude.”

Then the door opened.

Heels clicked on the tile. The sound was sharp, fast, and angry.

“Absolutely not.”

I turned.

A woman in a cream blazer stood by the sinks. Her name tag said “Patricia.”

The sound was sharp, fast, and angry.

“You need to leave,” she snapped.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I’ll be done in one minute. My daughters needed…”

“I don’t care. This is a women’s restroom.”

“I understand. There was no changing table in the men’s room.”

“Then complain to the mall.”

“I will. But right now, my baby is half changed.”

She stepped closer. “Men always have an excuse.”

“There was no changing table in the men’s room.”

I looked down at Ivy, who was finally in a clean diaper.

“Ma’am, I announced myself. I checked first. I’m not trying to bother anyone.”

“Then leave.”

“I can’t leave Lily wet.”

Lily cried from the stroller.

Ivy joined her.

The woman’s eyes flicked between them, annoyed instead of moved.

“I’m not trying to bother anyone.”

“You can’t even keep them quiet,” she said. “This is exactly why babies need mothers, not clueless men who don’t know what they’re doing.”

The room went silent in my head.

I heard Claire saying, “You’re going to be such a good dad.”

Then I heard the doctor: “We’re sorry.”

My hands froze on Ivy’s zipper.

Then Ivy’s fingers curled around mine.

“This is exactly why babies need mothers.”

That brought me back.

I looked at the woman. “Their mother died bringing them here. Please don’t use her absence against them.”

Something flickered across her face.

It should have been shame.

It wasn’t enough.

“That doesn’t give you the right to invade women’s spaces.”

“I’m not invading anything. I’m changing diapers.”

“Their mother died bringing them here.”

“You’re leaving.”

“No.”

My own voice surprised me.

Patricia blinked. “No?”

I zipped Ivy into a clean sleeper and lifted her against my shoulder. “I’m not leaving Lily wet because you’re uncomfortable with a father doing his job.”

“That isn’t your decision.”

“You’re leaving.”

“It is when she’s my daughter.”

I laid Lily on the changing pad.

Patricia raised her phone. “Then I’m calling security.”

“Call them,” I said, opening a fresh diaper. “But don’t stand so close.”

I kept changing Lily.

“Yes,” Patricia said into her phone, loud enough for the hallway to hear. “Security to the women’s restroom near the baby store. There’s a man in here refusing to leave.”

“I’m calling security.”

I fixed Lily’s tabs, then reached for her sleeper.

“There is a man in the women’s restroom!” Patricia shouted through the doorway.

Lily wailed.

“I’m almost done,” I whispered.

Patricia stepped toward me. “Pack up before they drag you out.”

I shifted Ivy higher. “Please step back. I’m holding one newborn and changing another.”

“Pack up before they drag you out.”

I zipped Lily halfway, tucked her safely against me, grabbed the diaper bag, and pushed the stroller into the hallway with my hip.

A small crowd had gathered.

Patricia followed, chin high. “Do you understand who you’re talking to?”

I adjusted Lily’s blanket with my chin.

“My name is Patricia. I work for the largest rental management company in this city. I handle applications for half the apartment buildings around here. Now you’re wasting my time. I should be with my daughter.”

“Do you understand who you’re talking to?”

My stomach dropped.

After the funeral, I’d applied for smaller apartments closer to Claire’s mother.

Patricia smiled when she saw my face change.

“One call,” she said, “and you’ll never find a place to live in this city again. I just need your name, and it’s all over.”

“That’s illegal.”

“People like you always think rules don’t apply.”

“You can’t threaten housing because I changed my babies.”

Patricia smiled when she saw my face change.

“I can protect my community from unstable people.”

I looked down at Ivy and Lily.

Then I looked back at her.

“You can call whoever you want, but you’re not going to shame me into failing my daughters.”

That’s when a pregnant woman stopped outside, one hand on her belly. A tall man stood beside her.

“Mom. Stop.”

“You can call whoever you want.”

I didn’t know either of them yet, but Patricia clearly did.

“Paige,” Patricia said. “Don’t get involved. You too, Lucas.”

The man looked at Patricia. “I’m involved because I’m her husband.”

Paige stepped closer, her face pale. “I heard you, Mom. We both did.”

“This man was in the women’s restroom,” Patricia said.

“He told everyone why,” Paige answered. “I heard him apologize before he went in.”