When the bottle was finally empty, Greg looked toward the stairs.
“Back to bed?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
He rose, settled Susan and Steve carefully into their warm box together, folded the blue blanket beside them with a gentleness that still undid me a little, and then reached for my hand instead of his pillow.
We went upstairs together, the way we always should have — not because anyone needed either of us at that particular hour, but simply because, after thirty-one years, we still wanted to be found in the same bed when the sun came up.
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
