It fit. It was easy.
That first night, Max wouldn’t come to dinner until I physically walked him downstairs.
He barely spoke.
When the baby cried, he flinched so hard he knocked his juice over. Daniel snapped at him for being careless, and Max burst into tears so fast it shocked us both.
Later, after I got the baby settled, I found him sitting in the upstairs hallway outside the nursery with his knees tucked to his chest.
“Sweetheart?” I said, kneeling down. “Talk to me.”
His cheeks were wet. “That baby isn’t my sister.”
I pushed his hair back from his forehead. “Why do you keep saying that?”
He shook his head violently. “I don’t want Daddy to hear.”
Something cold moved through me then. Small, but real.
“Okay,” I said softly. “Daddy can’t hear. Tell me.”
Max grabbed my hand with both of his.
His fingers were icy.
