Chapter 1

The second I walked through the front door, I found out my husband had planned every night of our baby’s life with his sister.

A printed schedule lay open on the kitchen counter.

Newborn Care Plan.

Nolan stood beside the dining table with a marker in his hand. Paige’s two suitcases sat at the bottom of the stairs, one half-unzipped, with tiny folded onesies showing through.

I read the schedule.

It covered the first two months after my maternity leave.

Paige — primary caregiver.

Paige — nights.

Paige — medical support.

My name was at the bottom.

Maya — return to work / household expenses.

That afternoon, I had resolved the final edits on a children’s book due that fall. At home, I found my husband had made a plan for me, too.

In his version, I earned the money. Paige raised our baby.

“Nolan,” I said, “what is this?”

He set down the marker.

“Paige is moving in. When you go back to work, she’ll raise the baby here. Her lease is almost up. This works for everyone.”

“Everyone?”

Paige stepped out of the guest room wearing my old gray cardigan—the one I had lent her last winter and never got back.

“I didn’t want it to happen so suddenly,” she said. “But Nolan said you’d understand.”

That made me look at him.

I had understood a lot where Paige was concerned. His canceled plans. The midnight drives because she was afraid to be alone. The bills he paid and the messes he cleaned up.

Eight months ago, Paige had lost her second pregnancy. Her marriage ended soon after.

I had made room for Nolan to be there for her. I packed him dinner to take over. When Paige called crying in the middle of the night, I sat up with him and found the nearest pharmacy still open.

Back then, Nolan held me and said he didn’t know what he would do without me.

“When did you make this?” I asked.

Paige didn’t answer.

“I never said I was going back to work full-time.”

“You don’t have to right away.” Nolan’s voice softened. “But you love your job. Paige wants to help, and she’s good with babies.”

“She isn’t helping.” I pointed at the page. “She’s the primary caregiver.”

Paige’s face tightened. “I’m not trying to replace you.”

“But you’ve already scheduled our baby’s first night home.”

“I just thought I could make things easier for you.”

“Then why does my line say ‘household expenses’?”

Nolan frowned. “Maya, don’t get stuck on the wording. It’s only a plan.”

“Whose plan?”

“Mine,” he said.

“Paige helped with some details. She’s been through a lot. She knows how hard the newborn stage can be. And you haven’t—”

He stopped.

Too late.

Twenty-two weeks earlier, I had placed a pregnancy test in his hand. He had spun me around the living room so fast he knocked over the floor lamp. That night, he kept saying we were going to be good parents.

Now I saw the place he had chosen for me.

Paige spoke softly. “That isn’t what he meant.”

“Then what did he mean?”

Her eyes filled, but she kept looking at me. “I just thought… I could finally be someone people needed again.”

Once, that would have made me soften.

But her luggage was at the foot of my stairs. Her name was in the column for my baby’s nights. And my husband was waiting for me to understand.

I picked up the schedule. The paper was still warm from the printer.

At the bottom, in pale blue letters, it read:

Paige’s fresh start.

I looked at it, then turned to Nolan.

“What does that mean?”

He glanced at Paige, certain I would make room for what he wanted.

“She lost a child,” he said. “You, of all people, should understand that she needs something to hope for.”