He looked at the stroller. “Yes, sir?”

“Nearest family restroom? My daughters need changing now.”

His face tightened. “I’m sorry. The one in this wing is closed for renovation.”

“What about the men’s room?”

“They removed the table last week. Maintenance issue.”

“So, the family room is closed, and the men’s room has no changing table?”

“I know.” I swallowed hard. “Sorry.”

Ivy screamed so hard her tiny hands shook.

The guard pointed down the hall. “There’s another family restroom in the East Wing. By the Crocs store.”

“How far?”

“15 minutes. Maybe 20 with the crowd.”

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.

 

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