Chapter 3

After breakfast, Graham handed Brynn the key to the nursery.

I was standing on the stairs. Her suitcase was already outside the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Moving her to another room," Graham said.

"The guest room is directly above the kitchen. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees what happened last night."

"The nursery is still part of this house."

"It's the room farthest from the kitchen."

I walked over and took the key from Brynn's hand.

"So is your office."

Graham's expression changed.

"My project files are in there. I need that room when I work at night."

"Then move them into the guest room."

"Don't be ridiculous, Marlowe. This project could decide whether I get promoted."

Brynn reached for the handle of her suitcase.

"Forget it, Graham. I'll stay in the guest room. If I can't sleep, I can't sleep."

She lowered her head, leaving the hospital wristband visible beneath the sleeve of her sweater.

Graham stopped her immediately.

"The doctor said you need a stable environment."

He took the key from me and placed it back in Brynn's palm.

"She can use the room for now. The baby won't be here for another six months. We'll deal with it later."

I looked through the open doorway.

Graham had chosen the pale green paint himself. The baby blanket we had bought together was folded inside the closet. A small white box still sat beside the window.

After we heard the heartbeat for the first time, I bought a silver hummingbird ornament from the gift shop downstairs. Graham had said we would hang it where the baby could see it upon waking.

Now he rolled Brynn's suitcase into the room.

"How long is she staying in there?" I asked.

"Until she's stable."

"A month? Three months? After the baby is born?"

"She held a knife to her wrist yesterday, and you want me to give her a deadline?"

"I want to know whether our child will still have a room."

Brynn stood inside the doorway.

"Marlowe thinks I'm planning to live here forever."

Graham stepped between us.

"She already feels guilty. Stop pushing her."

"I'm asking you."

He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had softened.

"Once you finish the hotel project, don't take on anything new for a while. You can stay home, rest during the pregnancy, and help Brynn. She'll stabilize faster if someone is here with her."

I finally understood what he meant by later.

He planned to clear my schedule along with the nursery.

"My doctor told me to stop providing care at night."

"That's why I'm telling you to work less," he said.

"Appointments, medication, making a few meals—how exhausting can that be? Your studio won't collapse because you turn down a few projects."

For ten months, I had rearranged meetings to take Brynn to appointments. I had dealt with her insurance company and documented every reaction to her medication.

Whenever Graham came home, he asked if there was anything left for him to do.

I always told him I had handled it.

He had taken that to mean the work had never cost anyone anything.

"If it's that easy, you can do it from now on."

"I have a job."

"So do I."

"Your job needs an office. Mine can be put on hold. My child's room can be given away."

Graham looked away.

"This is temporary. You don't have to keep score over everything."

Brynn stood behind him, the key closed inside her hand.

I stopped arguing.

I went into the nursery and picked up the white box from beside the window.

"I'm taking this."

Graham recognized it.

"The ornament can stay here."

"It belongs to the baby."

I placed the silver hummingbird in my bag, returned to my office, and locked the door.

The final proposal for the hotel project was still open on my computer. If I secured the contract, it would cover nearly a year of expenses for my studio. It would also give me the freedom to choose my workload after the baby arrived.

I emailed the client and confirmed that I would submit the final proposal the following afternoon.

Then I opened a rental website.

An apartment fifteen minutes from my studio had just become available. The rent was higher than I had planned for, and the security deposit would take most of my emergency savings. The building had an elevator, controlled entry, and a small bedroom facing south.

I checked my account balance, insurance costs, and projected expenses for the next three months.

Then I paid the fee to reserve a viewing.

The agent agreed to hold the apartment until the following evening.

At dinner, Graham asked why I kept checking my phone.

"I'm submitting the final proposal for the hotel project tomorrow afternoon," I said.

"I'm confirming the time."

His knife stopped against his plate.

"This project matters that much to you?"

"It would cover a year of expenses for my studio."

He nodded and asked nothing else.

I said nothing about the apartment.

At eleven, I closed my laptop, checked that the office door was locked, and went to bed.

Later that night, Graham walked into my office with his phone in his hand.