He turned back and studied me for a long moment, as if working up the nerve for something far larger than the question itself. Then, quietly: “Do you mind if I keep their setup downstairs for now?”
“No.”
“And — do you mind if I come back upstairs between feedings? Just to sleep beside you the rest of the time?”
I glanced pointedly at the pillow still tucked under his arm. “That’s where it lives, Greg.”
His mouth twitched into the first real smile I’d seen from him in weeks. “Right.”
Before dawn, his phone alarm buzzed softly against the nightstand. He sat up.
“Four o’clock,” he murmured, already halfway to standing.
I opened one eye against the dark. He hesitated in the doorway, silhouetted by the hall light, and for once didn’t try to slip away unnoticed.
“Come keep me company?” he asked instead.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m coming.”
