and locked my phone.
At 3:10, I finally found the medicine.
It wasn’t in Cole’s coat.
It remained inside the pharmacy bag on our dining table, beneath two unopened bottles of Christmas wine.
He hadn’t put it away or told me its location.
He’d simply left me to find it.
I administered the medication according to the pediatrician’s instructions and sat between the cribs until both babies slept.
The nursery walls were pale blue.
I’d painted little stars above the molding while seven months pregnant.
Cole had complained about
