She immediately fussed.
Thirty seconds later, he handed her back.
“She wants you.”
“Give her a minute.”
He glanced toward the kitchen.
“Can we just eat?”
I carried Emma upstairs before I said something I would regret.
That night, I barely slept.
Not because of Emma.
Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw those messages.
Baby elephant.
Disaster.
Not attracted to her anymore.
The next morning, Ryan casually reminded me about Saturday dinner.
We hosted his brothers and their wives fairly often.
Glen and Tess.
Max and Olive.
Normally I cooked.
Normally Ryan relaxed with his brothers while I made sure everyone had drinks, plates, food, dessert.
“Are we still hosting?” he asked.
“I guess.”
He poured coffee.
“Good.”
“Cooking for six people with Emma isn’t easy.”
“You’ve always managed.”
I stared at him.
“Before Emma, I had more time.”
“Then make something simple.”
“Or you could help.”
