Jamie held out his hands as soon as he saw Luke. For a breathtaking moment, Luke thought the baby was asking for him, but then he realized Jamie only wanted his bottle.
Sophie took it from him, presumably to hand it to Jamie, but also, Luke was pretty sure, to check its temperature. She didn’t trust him. Yet. But she would.
Jamie, snuggled in Sophie’s arms, slurped on his bottle while Sophie rocked him to sleep. A distant memory tugged at the fringes of Luke’s mind. He tried to pull it out, but he couldn’t. His parents had died in a private plane crash before he’d started kindergarten and his memories of them were mostly from photographs, still framed shots, despite the fact there were also videos and home movies. Mia looked like his mom. He and Matt had taken after their dad in looks as well as temperament. All three had relished adventure to the point of recklessness. The difference between Luke and his dad and brother had been that Luke had nothing to lose. Matt’s death had seemed so pointless—almost as if he hadn’t learned from their father’s mistake.
“He’s asleep,” Sophie whispered.
Luke pulled himself out of his bitter thoughts. “Let me get him,” he said before Sophie could try to stand on her bad ankle. His hands brushed against her breasts as he lifted Jamie into his arms.
“On his back or front?” he asked.
She seemed thrown off balance by his question. “Oh, his back,” she said after a small hesitation. “He sleeps on his back,” she repeated.
“What about a blanket?”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t use one. It makes him less likely to suffocate.”
He put the baby in the crib, and Jamie flung his arms back like a football referee signaling a goal. He did not look comfortable. “Now what?”
“Now we turn on the white noise.” She flipped on a tiny device on the dresser. “And we turn out the light.”
She limped across the room.
“Let me help you,” he said.
“I’m good,” she said, although she had pale gray shadows beneath her eyes.
Luke silently cursed, and scooped her up in his arms. “Stop being so heroic.” He carried her into the bathroom.
She struggled briefly, but Luke tightened his grip. “What are we doing in here?” she asked.
“We’re getting your toothbrush.”
She nodded, pulled open the medicine cabinet, and retrieved her toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Don’t you floss?”
She bit back a grin and found the floss. “Can you put me down now?”
“Not until we get your pajamas.” He wheeled around the tiny hall and made his way into the bedroom dominated by a king-size bed. “This doesn’t look like something my brother would sleep in.”
“I replaced the bedding,” Sophie told him. “It is, I guess, a little girly.”
This was the one room in his brother’s house that looked like Sophie. The walls were a softy gray, the bedding was white lace topped with pastel pink and green throw pillows. It even smelled of her.
“You’ll want to change the sheets if you’re going to sleep in here,” she said. “They’re in there.” She nodded at a hall closet.
He took her to the closet. Each sheet set was carefully folded and bundled together with a piece of ribbon. It occurred to him that she probably kept everything in her physical life so neatly organized and compartmentalized in a way that she couldn’t with her emotional life. She pulled out a set of cream-colored sheets that smelled of lavender and balanced them on the curve of her belly. “Are you going to put me down now?”
“Pajamas,” he said.
“Back in there.”
A row of silver-framed photographs lined the top of the dresser. He promised himself he would look at each of them more closely after Sophie was tucked into the guest bedroom. There were several pictures of her with Chloe and her parents. Thinking of all she’d lost made him hold her tighter.
She pulled open the dresser and selected a pink and black striped nightgown. It wasn’t the one he wanted to choose, but he kept his opinions to himself. He walked down the stairs without saying a word and took Sophie into the guestroom.
“This is weird,” she said. “It’s all backward. I should be sleeping up there and you down here.”
