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She looks at him with wide, horrified eyes, “I am trying to remember how to breathe.”

Edward shifts in front of her immediately, taking both of her hands in his. “You do not have to remember. Your body knows.”

“But what if it forgets?” she states while Alcott muffles his laughter.

“It will not,” Edward informs her.

“How do you know?”

“Because you are breathing right now.” He gestures to her body.

Her eyes flick down to her chest, then back to him. “I am doing it wrong.”

Alcott kneels beside her. “There is not typically a wrong way unless one ceases entirely.”

Edward snaps, “Not helpful.”

Alcott lifts a finger. “But technically accurate.”

“Alcott,” he warns.

Olive makes a small sound. A whine, almost. It is so unlike her that the three of us go still. Her face crumples with pure, offended misery. “I feel too much.”

The words are small, raw, not The Widow. Not the woman with poison tucked into rings and knives hidden in garters. Just Olive, overwhelmed by her own skin.

Edward’s expression breaks. “Oh, darling.”

She leans forward instantly, folding herself against his chest as though his body is the only solid thing left in the room.

“I can feel everything,” she whispers. “My dress. My hair. My heartbeat. My teeth. Why do I have so many teeth?”

Alcott presses his lips together so tightly I fear he may injure himself.

I point at him. “Do not laugh.”

“I am not.”

“You are turning purple,” I state, bemused.

“I am experiencing internal restraint.”

Edward glares at both of us over Olive’s head. “You imbeciles are impossible.”

Olive’s fingers curl into his shirt. “I need to get closer.”

“You are close,” Edward exclaims, exhausted.

“No.” Her voice is muffled against him. “Closer.”

Edward’s throat works. I try very hard to look solemn. Truly, I do. But then she adds, with great distress, “I can still tell where I end.”

Alcott makes a strangled noise and turns toward the fireplace. I clear my throat. “Darling, if you get any closer to Edward, you will be rubbing into the cavern of his rib cage and nestling among his innards.”

Olive goes quiet, then she sighs. “That sounds warm.”

Edward looks at me as though he intends to murder me with his bare hands.

I lift both palms, “In my defense, she found it comforting.” I sit back on my heels and exhale, then clear my throat. “Right. I suppose either I am going to need to sober up and be the adult, which is a truly horrifying proposition, or you need to be the adult, Edward.”