Alisha's POVThe nursery was being renovated. Alexander held a paintbrush he definitely shouldn't have had. Ella supervised from the doorway, arms folded and wearing the expression she'd inherited from Joshua, one she used on everyone, no matter their age or rank.Diana and Lydia stood on ladders with paintbrushes, working in the easy rhythm of those who no longer need to fill silence.James was in the driveway unloading furniture from a truck with the unhurried energy of a man who had built something with his hands and was bringing it home.Today we were literally doing it.I stood in the nursery doorway at seven months pregnant with Eliza pressing against my ribs and felt something I didn't have a clean word for.*Almost,* I thought. *Almost there.*"Alexander." Joshua appeared beside me, looked at the small handprint Alexander had already deposited on the lower half of the wall, before turning to me."He's helping," I said."He's helping," Joshua agreed. In the tone that meant we w
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