“Careful, that one could almost be cute.”
“I know.” Ciara winces. “I might end up shooting myself in the foot here. But you should do the same with Kieran. It would be hilarious.”
The thought makes my heart flutter and sink at the same time, but I force a smile. “Maybe someday.”
Ciara narrows her eyes at me. “You know, I would start thinking of names sooner than later. Nine months really is not a lot of time.”
“Moonbeam,” I blurt. “Moon for short.”
Ciara stares at me in mock horror, and I can’t help but laugh.
“No.”
“Yes!” I grin. “Moonbeam Sullivan. I think it flows beautifully.”
“If you actually name your kid that, I’ll personally stage an intervention and adopt it myself.”
“So you can name it something like Gertrude instead?”
“For your information, I think Gertie is a wonderful name.”
“You better be joking.”
We go back and forth like that for a while, tossing out progressively more ridiculous names until we both have tears in our eyes from trying to hold in our laughter. For a moment, it almost feels normal.
But it doesn’t take long for Ciara’s eyelids to begin to droop with tiredness.
Her hand rests protectively on her belly as she mumbles something about adding Bartholomew to the list before her voice trails off, and within seconds, she’s asleep.
She looks peaceful, but I know it’s a fragile peace. Any day now, her entire world will change, hopefully for the better.
I should close my eyes and try to rest while I can, but my mind won’t let me. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.
The faint hum of the old house settles around me, the sound of the clock ticking and the rustle of the wind against the windows.
I start counting the seconds as they tick by on the clock, hoping the monotony will help quiet my mind enough to let me drift off to sleep. But I’ve barely reached thirty when I catch the rumble of voices coming from downstairs.
It’s faint enough that I wonder if I’ve imagined it.
The voices are both too deep for it to just be Dr. Allen and his wife. Besides, I heard Mari disappear inside her room not long ago, and she never left.
Which means someone else is here.
Carefully, I slip off the bed so as not to wake Ciara and creep toward the door.
Every instinct tells me to stay put, but the not knowing gnaws at me.
Kieran and Ronan think they’re doing me a favor by downplaying the situation, but the reality of not knowing how serious things are is making me feel worse.
Holding my breath, I slowly open the door and creep down the hall, following the sound of the voices. It’s only when I reach the top of the stairs that I realize who Dr. Allen is talking to.
Ronan.
Sneaking down the first few steps, I peer over the banister.
Ronan is standing in the living room.
I don’t need to hear what he’s saying to know it’s bad. I can tell from the stiffness in his shoulders and the way he keeps clenching his hands into fists, as if he’s fighting the urge to send one into the wall.
