"Ezio, where were you? I waited for you all night. Listen to me—"
"Get lost."
She stopped.
I kept going up, to the second floor, to the nursery door. Pushed it open.
The nanny was holding Juliet, pacing around the room.
Juliet was crying.
That piercing, heartbreaking cry echoed through the room.
"Sir." The nanny saw me, looked relieved. "Miss Juliet keeps crying, can't be soothed. Since last night until now, crying on and off."
Since last night.
Since that happened.
I closed my eyes, walked over.
"Give her to me."
"But—"
"Give her to me."
She handed Juliet over.
I took her, held her in my arms.
Juliet was so small, so light, so soft, trembling in my arms, crying nonstop, cried until her voice went hoarse.
"Out," I said.
The nanny paused, nodded, and left.
The door closed.
I held Juliet and walked slowly aroundthe room.
"Don't cry," I said quietly, voice soft, didn't even know what I was saying. "Don't cry, Daddy's here."
She kept crying.
That tiny face, red from crying, tears all over, mouth open, making that heartbreaking sound.
I held her tighter and gently patted her back.
"Stop crying," I repeated.
She cried harder, little hands grabbing my shirt, like searching for something.
What was she searching for?
Searching for that person she'd barely seen but must remember the scent of?
I don't know why, but suddenly I remembered that face in the delivery room.
