A noise jerks me from my sleep and I sit up quickly. Ever since the miscarriage, I wake up sometimes with the sound of a baby crying in my head. But this time, it doesn’t shred my insides. It’s real. And it’s in my own house.

I toss the covers back and get out of bed.

I find Anna and Devon in the hallway, and they’re both staring into the nursery, watching inside.

“What’s up, guys?” I ask quietly.

Anna scrubs her eyes. “I heard crying.”

Devon yawns. “Me too.”

“You guys go back to bed. Mick and I can take care of this.” They don’t move. They just stand there staring at me. “Do you need me to tuck you in?”

Devon nods.

I smile and follow them back to the room with the huge bed they’re sharing. They crawl beneath the covers and I pull it up to their chins. “How does your mom tuck you in?” I ask, as I sit down on the edge of the bed.

“She rolls us up like burritos and says ‘snug as a bug in a rug’.” Anna giggles. “Then she pretends to tickle us a little and we go to sleep.”

“So, like this?” I pretend to plump them in the blankets, tucking it beneath each of them in turn. Then I tickle across their tummies until they giggle. Their laughter sounds like tiny bells. “Snug as a bug in a rug,” I say as I adjust the covers for the last time.

“Do you think our mom will come and get us?” Anna suddenly asks.

“Of course she will,” I say automatically. But I honestly know no such thing. “She’s just gone to see the doctor so she can feel better.”

Anna nods and rolls so that her face is pressed against the pillow. “Good night,” she says.

Devon rolls in the other direction. “Night,” he mutters.

I go to the nursery and see Roxy sleeping on the toddler bed, but the crib is empty when I look into it.

I find Mick in the kitchen bouncing a baby on his hip as he prepares a bottle. “Here,” I say, holding out my arms. “Let me take him.”

He passes him over and I carry his chubby little body over to the rocking chair.

“Thanks,” Mick says, and he reaches for the baby.

“I’ll feed him.” I hold out my hand for the bottle.

“Are you sure?”

I take the bottle and tip the baby into the crook of my arm. His eyes close immediately. “What time is it?” I ask.

Mick glances toward the clock on the wall. “Two.” He yawns as he sits down on the end of the sofa closest to me.

“Do you think he always gets up at night?” I ask.

“God, I hope not.” Mick chuckles.

I hold Chase in my arms and say, “It’s not so bad. I’ve never been a good sleeper. At least with a baby in the house, I’ll have company when I’m not able to sleep.” I look at Mick and find his eyes closed, his head leaning back against the couch. “You should go to sleep. I can take care of this.”

He tips his face toward mine and looks at me from beneath lowered lids. “This isn’t so bad. I kind of like hanging out with you.”

“And him.” I nod toward the bundle in my arms.

“I’ll take what I can get.”

Silence falls across the room. But this time, for the first time in quite a while, it’s not an oppressive blanket covering us both. It’s light and air and peace.

“Hey, Mick,” I begin after a few minutes of silence.

“Hmm…?” he hums without opening his eyes.

“Thank you for being with me that night,” I say. A lump forms in my throat and I have to swallow past it.

His eyes fly open and he stares at me in the dark room. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.”

“It was a terrible night. I’m sorry I put you through that.”

Silence is his only comment. And just when I think the moment has passed, he says, “The only thing that makes me feel sorry for anything is that I didn’t hold on to you tighter, Wren. If I had, maybe it would have turned out differently.”

“You held on as tight as I’d let you.”

“Which was none at all. And I let you push me away. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was what I wanted.”

“No, it wasn’t.” His tone is sharp and angry. “It wasn’t what you wanted at all. You wanted to be held. You wanted to be loved. You just didn’t know how to ask for all that. I should have pushed harder.”

“I didn’t want to be pushed.”

“You can keep lying to yourself, Wren, but you can’t lie to me. Not about this. I know you care for me. I know you might even love me. But you’re so mired in guilt that this thing between us can’t go anywhere. I stopped pushing. I stopped calling. I just…stopped.”

“No.” I heave out a sigh. “I stopped.”

“Why?”

“It was so much easier that way.”

“But is it really?”

I stop for a moment and think. “No. It’s not. It’s hard being…like this.”

His voice rings out in the quiet room. “So stop.”

“I’m trying.” I nod toward the sleeping bundle in my arms. “I’m really trying.”

“Loving a baby is easy. They’re innocent and they don’t hold pain in their hearts. At least not yet. But loving another adult… That’s a little harder.”

It’s really not. What’s hard is not loving a man, particularly when you know you already do.

“I asked Friday to make a tattoo for me.”

“What kind?”

“Just something to remember it all by,” I say quietly. “It was real. It happened. And I will forever be changed by it.”

“I will too.”

And that sentence hits me like a punch in the gut. In all of this, I could only think of my own pain. I could only think of the way it affected me, the way it changed me. But he was there too, and he was changed by it too.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

“I’m not,” he replies. “I wouldn’t take any of it back. Sure, I’d change the outcome, but I wouldn’t take any of what happened back. It’s part of you and, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I like all the parts.”

I laugh quietly. “All my parts? You haven’t even seen most of my parts.”

Silence falls for a moment, again. “I’ve seen the important parts. The rest will come if the time is ever right.”

“I think he’s asleep,” I say. Chase lies limp and unconcerned in my arms.

“You want me to lay him down?” he asks.

“I can do it.”

“Okay.” He yawns. “I’m going back to bed, unless you need something.”

“No, go ahead.”

I take Chase into the nursery, lay him down, and when he stirs ever so slightly, I lay my hand upon his chest, right over his heart, and he settles back down. I check on Roxy, covering her where the blanket has slipped off. Then I check on Devon and Anna, and they’re both sound asleep.

As I walk by Mick’s room, I see that his door is open just a crack. I stop outside it and listen for sounds of him moving around. I don’t hear anything. He’s probably already asleep.

I push his door open and step into the room, and my heart starts to thunder in my chest. He rolls over onto his back, and he stares up at me.

“Can I sleep with you?” I say quietly.

He tosses the covers back and slides over, and then he pats the space next to him. “Come on,” he says, his voice husky, like rocks sliding over glass.

I sit gingerly on the edge of his bed. “It’s difficult, you know.”

“I know,” he says, and his fingers touch the small of my back. “But this time, I needed for you to seek me out, instead of the other way around.”

“I need you,” I say, and my voice suddenly cracks.

He hooks an arm around my back and draws me down into the bed with him, his arms encircling me tightly.

“Come closer,” he says. “You smell good.”

I lay my head on his chest and suddenly, it’s like all the dams I’ve built within myself give way. I sniffle and try to hold it back, but I can’t. “I should go,” I say.

“If that’s what you want,” he says softly. But he doesn’t let me go. I burrow more tightly against him.

“It’s not.” My voice cracks and tears begin to burn my eyes. I squeeze them tightly together, but it has been too long. I have held too much back.

“It’s okay,” he soothes.

“I know it is.”

He holds me through the sobbing that has been a little too long in coming. He holds me through all of it, so close that our bodies are like one.

Finally, when I’m spent and tired, I ask, “Can I stay?”

“Yes,” he says quietly. “You can stay.”

I pat his chest. “Your shirt’s wet.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to get you another one?”

“No.” He pulls back from me long enough to pull the wet shirt over his head, and then he brings me back to him. “I don’t need another.”

His skin is soft and rough, and we have never been so close. I burrow in tightly and close my eyes. “Can I still stay?”

“Yes, you can still stay,” he says. His lips touch my forehead.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Go to sleep.”