They were three weeks old. They could not wait twenty minutes because a mall had planned badly.
A woman passing by said the women’s restroom had a changing table, then went rigid when I looked toward the door.
“You can’t go in there. You’re a man.”
“I know. But the men’s room has nothing, and the family room is closed.”
“That’s not my problem,” she said, and walked away.
I stood there with two crying babies, the diaper bag digging into my shoulder, and Claire’s voice echoing in my head.
“Talk to them, Mason. Even when you feel silly. They’ll know your voice.”
I crouched beside the stroller.
“Girls,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “we’re going to be quick. We’re going to be respectful. And Daddy’s got you.”
I lifted Ivy into the sling against my chest and kept Lily in the stroller. At the women’s restroom door, I stopped.
I hated the choice in front of me, but I loved Ivy and Lily more than I feared being judged.
So I pushed the door open.
“I’m sorry,” I called before stepping inside. “I have newborn twins. There’s no changing table in the men’s room, and the family room is closed. I’ll be two minutes.”
No one answered.
I moved to the changing table and laid Ivy down first.
“I know, bug,” I whispered, kissing her forehead. “Daddy’s hurrying.”
She kicked and screamed like I had personally offended her.
“That’s fair,” I said. “Wet clothes are rude.”
Then the door opened.
Heels clicked against the tile. The sound was sharp, quick, and angry.
I turned.
A woman in a cream blazer stood near the sinks. Her name tag said “Patricia.”
“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.”
“I will. But right now, my baby is half changed.”
She stepped nearer. “Men always have an excuse.”
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.”
Lily cried from the stroller.
Ivy joined her.
The woman’s eyes flicked between them, irritated instead of softened.
“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 inside 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.
That pulled me back.
I looked at the woman. “Their mother died bringing them here. Please don’t use her absence against them.”
Something flickered over her face.
It should have been shame.
It was not enough.
“That doesn’t give you the right to invade women’s spaces.”
“I’m not invading anything. I’m changing diapers.”
“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.”
“It is when she’s my daughter.”
I laid Lily on the changing pad.
Patricia lifted 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.
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