“Nora.”
I looked at the girl.
Gray eyes.
His gray eyes.
Then I looked at my husband.
“Oh my God, Ethan.”
My voice barely worked.
“Who is she?”
FOUR MONTHS EARLIER
Before all of this, I would have described Ethan and me as solid.
We had been together eight years.
Married for six.
We rarely had serious fights.
We still held hands walking through Bellmere.
If one of us woke first, the other usually found coffee waiting beside the bed.
Then Kai and Theo were born.
We had wanted those boys for so long that during their first weeks home, I sometimes woke in the middle of the night simply to make sure both were breathing.
Motherhood was wonderful.
And exhausting.
Our days were bottles, diapers, laundry, crying, naps, and stretches of sleep measured in hours rather than nights.
I managed chaos through lists.
Feeding times.
Bottle amounts.
Diapers.
Medicine.
