I had been letting it grow familiar in my mind, trying it silently against what I knew of him.

Now it belonged in the room.

The last light caught the wood grain.

Somewhere downstairs, someone closed a cupboard.

There was food in the refrigerator, an appointment on my calendar, and a folder of papers put away where I could reach it.

There were years of questions still to answer about how we had lost each other.

There were also ordinary mornings ahead in which we could get to know each other without a courtroom between us.

Gavin rested his hand on the crib.

“We’re finally safe and entirely home,” he said.