“I signed a six-month lease.”
Mark nodded.
“That sounds good.”
“You don’t sound like you think it’s good.”
He smiled faintly.
“I’m trying to learn the difference between supporting your decision and pretending I don’t have feelings about it.”
Emily blinked.
“That’s annoyingly mature.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
She laughed.
Mark looked down at Faith.
Then back at Emily.
“Do you need help moving?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Really?”
“You own a truck.”
“Ah.”
“Don’t get sentimental.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The rental was a small yellow house with a shaded porch.
Emily chose it because the kitchen received morning sunlight.
Mark assembled three cribs there.
Claire stocked the freezer.
Margaret brought curtains.
Emily’s mother, who lived three states away, visited for two weeks and filled every available surface with casseroles.
Nobody treated the rental as a failure.
That mattered to Emily.
