“It matters.”
“At twenty-three, I wanted to open my first restaurant. Dad told me it was stupid. Mom begged me not to take the risk. Tessa laughed and said she hoped I had a backup plan.”
“But when it succeeded…”
“They started telling people the whole family helped build it.”
Clare gave me a sad smile.
“And did they?”
“Dad installed two shelves.”
She actually laughed.
I did too.
It felt good.
Then the baby kicked again.
Clare winced.
I immediately straightened.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, Ian.”
“Because we can go—”
“She kicked me.”
“Strong?”
“Very.”
I crouched beside her and placed my palm against her stomach.
A few seconds later, there it was.
A firm little push.
The world narrowed.
All the noise disappeared.
My parents.
Tessa.
The house.
The arguments.
For one second none of it existed.
Only Clare.
Only our daughter.
Only the strange, impossible fact that there was a tiny person inside my wife who had never met me and yet already had enough power to rearrange every priority in my life.
