Chapter 76

• The townhouse felt bigger than Juliee remembered.
• Maybe it was the December sky—pale-gold light pouring through the loft windows, stretching long across the newly sanded floors. Maybe it was the hush that followed them inside, a hush so complete she could hear Ezra’s tiny breaths echo in the foyer. Or maybe it was simply that two people had walked out the door three days ago, and now three people had come back.
• Christian nudged the door shut with his foot, diaper bag slung over one shoulder, car seat held like the crown jewels in both hands. He moved slowly, cautiously, as though the walls themselves might bump him and wake the sleeping bundle swaddled in gray. Juliee followed, one palm pressed to the ache in her abdomen, the other hovering under the plastic carrier even though he had it perfectly balanced.