« Oh God, Dan, » I whispered. « What have you done? Who is this child? »
She had his gray eyes.
***
A few months earlier, I would have said Daniel and I had the kind of marriage people trusted.
We’d been together eight years, married for six, and rarely argued. We still held hands in public, and if one of us woke first, coffee appeared beside the bed.
Then Kai and Theo arrived.
We had wanted them for so long that I sometimes woke just to check that they were breathing.
Motherhood was beautiful, loud, messy, and built around three-hour stretches of sleep.
We’d been together eight years.
I handled stress by making lists of feedings, diapers, and bottles. Daniel teased me about the notes beside the sink, but he followed them. He warmed bottles at two in the morning and knew exactly how to settle each boy.
