When we found out the baby was a girl, Claire put her palm flat on my stomach and closed her eyes like she was praying.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Nora. Thank you so much.”
I told her to knock it off before she ruined her mascara.
It should have been the best year of all our lives.
I didn’t know yet that somewhere underneath all of it, my brother was already lying to both of us — and that the moment he looked at his daughter and refused to bring her home, the reason he gave the room wasn’t even close to the real one.
PART 2
Two months before my due date, they had me over for dinner, and afterward Claire practically dragged me down the hallway by the wrist to show me the nursery.
The walls were painted a pale, soft green. A white crib sat under a mobile made of little felt stars. She’d already filled the changing table drawers with tiny dresses, and when she opened one and laughed through tears — “I know this is ridiculous, I couldn’t stop buying things” — I laughed with her.
