Chapter 1
At our seventh-anniversary dinner, my husband, Daniel, handed me a nursery design.
Inside the gift box I’d prepared for him was a report confirming I was eleven weeks pregnant.
The candles had just been lit. Our steaks were still steaming. I was wearing his favorite blue dress, with the white roses I’d bought beside me.
He didn’t look at the flowers. He just slid the drawing closer.
Pale green walls. A white crib. A rocking chair by the window. A little star in the bottom-right corner.
I tightened my grip on the gift box and looked up.
“How did you know…”
“Claire’s pregnant. Seventeen weeks.” He pulled out his chair. “We should raise the baby for her. You’ve always wanted to be a mom, right?”
My smile froze.
Claire was my best friend.
Just last week, she’d helped me shop for his anniversary gift. She’d picked out this very box.
“Gold ribbon. Daniel will love it.”
Now that ribbon dug painfully into my fingers.
“Why would she give us her baby?”
“The father can’t take responsibility.” Daniel cut into his steak. “How’s she supposed to raise a baby alone?”
“So you already agreed for both of us?”
His knife stopped.
“Emma, we can afford it.”
“I’m not asking about money.” I stared at him. “For how long? A few months? The rest of our lives?”
He set down his knife and fork and finally looked me in the eye.
“You used to love kids.”
I said nothing.
He smoothed out the drawing and pointed to the window.
“The rocking chair goes here. You can sit in the sun with the baby. Didn’t you always say this room had the best afternoon light?”
I stared at the little star in the corner.
I’d drawn it.
Two years ago, Daniel and I had measured that room together. I’d sat on the floor sketching while he crouched beside me, saying our baby deserved the very best crib.
Then we lost the baby.
The room had stayed locked ever since.
“You used our baby’s nursery design?”
“It saves us having to start over.”
He took my hand and gently brushed his thumb across it.
“Having a baby in the house might help you move on.”
I pulled away and lowered the gift box into my lap, hiding it in the folds of my dress.
Just that afternoon, I’d heard our baby’s heartbeat at my appointment.
The doctor said everything looked good.
Afterward, I’d sat in the hospital hallway holding the report until my tears dried. Then I’d called the bakery to order our anniversary cake.
I’d even planned to give Daniel the nursery key after he opened his gift.
Now he’d already opened that door for someone else.
His phone lit up. He glanced at the screen, and his expression softened immediately.
“Work call.”
He kissed my forehead and stepped onto the patio.
The sliding glass door stayed open a crack.
I lifted the lid of the gift box and looked down at the report.
Eleven weeks.
Maybe once he saw it, he would stop talking about raising someone else’s baby.
I carried the box toward the patio. I was about to call his name when I heard a soft laugh.
“Don’t cry. I already talked to her.”
My hand stopped beside the door.
I couldn’t make out the woman’s voice, but he listened patiently.
“She just needs a minute to get used to the idea.”
Through the glass, I watched him lower his head and smile. There was none of the irritation he’d shown when I questioned him at dinner.
“Relax. She’s already lost one baby. She won’t have the heart to say no to yours.”
The lid slipped from my fingers.
I caught it against the box, a sharp cardboard corner digging into my palm.
Then he added softly, “Our baby will be well taken care of.”