Chapter 1

Evan's hand was still resting on my belly when Harper told me he had spent the night at her apartment.

She said it casually across the dinner table, as if I already knew.

I didn't.

I was thirty-two weeks pregnant. The night before, Evan had texted me: Stuck at the gym with a late assessment. Don't wait up, babe.

I had fallen asleep waiting for him to come home.

Now he sat beside me, calm as ever, while his thumb moved in slow, steady circles against the curve of my belly.

"Sage green," he said, pulling out my chair at the corner table. "For the nursery. It's quiet. You won't get tired of it."

I leaned into his side as I sat down. Thirty-two weeks into the pregnancy, every chair felt stiff, but with Evan beside me, the room felt grounded.

He flagged the waiter, checked that my water was room temperature, and asked the kitchen to swap out the cured meats on the charcuterie board.

It was the same quiet care he had shown through three years of fertility clinics, the bruised skin from hormone injections, and two failed embryo transfers.

The brass bell over the front door rattled, and Harper Lane walked in.

"Happy birthday, Claire," Harper said, dropping onto the bench across from us and giving my shoulder an easy squeeze. "Sorry I'm late. The traffic off the ramp was backed up."

"You made it," I said, smiling back. "That's what matters."

Harper had been Evan's college friend long before she became mine. When she lost her job and her fiancé in the same month, I gave her our spare room, helped with her resume, and asked Evan to let her use the gym.

I had made room for her because she mattered to him.

Harper reached across the table, grabbed Evan's water glass without asking, and took a long drink. She set it down and gave him a dry look.

"You really don't know how to take a night off, do you?" Harper laughed, shaking her head. "He was at my place until almost two in the morning, pacing my kitchen and redesigning my mobility schedule."

My fingers stopped on the stem of my fork.

Last night at eleven, Evan had texted me from his phone:

Stuck at the gym with a late assessment. Don't wait up, babe.

I had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for the porch light to turn off.

Harper caught the sudden stillness between us. Her eyes flicked from my face to Evan's, and her laugh cut short.

"Wait," Harper said, waving a hand with a quick, dismissive shrug. "I thought you knew, Claire. Tomorrow is the women's community workshop at the studio. Evan was just being his usual control-freak self about my hip warm-ups."

She leaned forward, her palm covering the back of my hand.

"Please don't get worked up, Claire," Harper said, her voice dropping into a soft, cautious hush. "You've had a long road with this baby. Don't let my loud mouth start anything."

Evan's hand shifted from the table to my arm. His touch was firm, but it carried that practiced patience he used on anxious clients.

Before he answered me, his eyes went to Harper--as if he needed to make sure she was all right.

"She's right, Claire," Evan said quietly. "We'll talk about it at home. Let's not turn this into a whole thing tonight."

A cold wire tightened in my chest.

I looked Evan in the eyes.

"You told me you were at the gym."

Evan didn't flinch, but the muscle along his jaw ticked once.

"I wrapped up the consult, and she called about her knee," he said, speaking in that steady, reasonable baritone.

"You were already exhausted when I left. I didn't want you lying awake worrying about a five-minute errand that ran long."

I looked at him for a beat.

"I see," I said.

I picked up my fork and finished my tart.

When the bill came, Evan paid, and we walked Harper to the curb.

While Evan stood by the driver's door adjusting the passenger seat for my back, I unlocked my phone.

I opened a blank note.

October 14. 11:12 PM. Text: At the gym with a late assessment. Truth: Harper's apartment until 2:00 AM.

I saved it and locked the screen.

Evan turned the ignition, and his dashboard display lit up.

A text preview flashed across the console:

Harper: See you tomorrow, Coach. Don't be late.

Evan glanced at it, a faint half-smile touching his mouth before he shifted into drive.

I looked out the window and let the silence sit between us all the way home.