He didn’t assume.
He waited.
A few months earlier, that would have seemed insignificant.
Now I understood exactly what it represented.
Respect.
Choice.
Boundaries.
“Goodnight, Claire.”
“Goodnight, Julian.”
He walked away.
Later, I sat beside Ivy’s crib in the dim light of her nursery.
Grandpa’s hands had built every wooden rail surrounding her.
Julian’s eyes looked back at me from her tiny face.
My mother’s history lived somewhere inside our story too.
I rocked Ivy slowly.
One dark eye blinked up at me.
Then the blue one.
