I noticed that.
I noticed all kinds of little things that morning, though at the time I told myself not to read too much into them. The way Megan wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. The way Daniel seemed desperate to leave. The way the diaper bag looked overpacked, as if they were preparing for a full day instead of a quick shopping trip.
“Call if you need anything,” Daniel said, already opening the front door.
“I raised you, didn’t I?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. “I think I can handle one baby for an hour.”
Megan forced a smile. “Right. Of course.”
Then they were gone.
The house fell quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint, restless noises coming from Noah’s bassinet in the living room.
I washed my mug, straightened the kitchen counter, and let myself enjoy the ordinary sweetness of being alone with my grandson. He was awake, making those tiny newborn sounds that are somewhere between a sigh and a question. I lifted him carefully, supporting his little head, and settled into the armchair by the window.
“There’s my handsome boy,” I whispered.
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