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I went inside and pictured her crib against the wall, a chair by the window and shelves low enough for her books. I could see Sparrow crawling across the rug to make Seb read the one about the bear again.

We argued over two shades of yellow while Sparrow tried to eat the paint cards. Seb painted the next day. Her crib, chair and books waited in the spare bedroom until the walls were dry.

Now her clothes filled the drawers. The chair stood beside the window where he could do his ridiculous rabbit voice at bedtime. My toothbrush had stopped going back into my bag. I still went to Robin’s, but we were spending less and less time there.

My fourteen boxes had come over from the cottage too. I finally opened them while Seb sat on the floor with Sparrow. Austen had packed my Millfield clothes carefully. I kept the dress Seb remembered trying to get me out of and a few others I still liked. The rest went into a bag for the thrift store. They fit; I just couldn’t imagine wearing them for a walk along Kettlewell’s harbor or to mom-and-baby class.

I unpacked my mugs, dishes and pans into Seb’s kitchen, shifting his things to make room.

Five weeks after Nick and Dion carried in the couch, I filled out a form at the pediatrician’s. Under Sparrow’s home address, I wrote Seb’s without having to think about it.

Sparrow was pulling herself along the edge of a chair in the waiting room. She let go with one hand to wave at a woman across from us and plopped down on her bottom. She laughed and tried again.

I gave the form to the receptionist. Outside, with Sparrow strapped into her car seat, I sat behind the wheel and kept seeing the address I’d written.

Her clothes were in the drawers, my things were in the kitchen, and most mornings we woke up here. I’d written where Sparrow lived. Where we lived. I wanted Seb to hear me say it too.

That evening, after Sparrow fell asleep, I sat across the kitchen table from Seb as he worked.

“I wrote this address on Sparrow’s form today,” I said, pushing the form across the table to him. “I didn’t even stop to think.”

Seb took off his glasses and looked at me.

“I told myself we were only staying while we did her room. But it’s finished, and we’re still here.” I reached for his hand. “I live here, Seb. Sparrow and I live here. This is our home.”

“I’ve wanted that since the day I bought this place.” He squeezed my hand.

“There’s something else,” I said. “Sparrow and I are coming to Millfield for the ceremony.”

His grip tightened. “You’re going to the clubhouse?”

“I want to see Austen and the others.” I also wanted to know how it would feel to walk into the common room where Seb had played our video for everyone.

He started to speak, then stopped himself. “All right. I’ll sort the truck.”

“Thank you.”

He stood and came around the table. I drew him down for a kiss, but Sparrow called from her room before I could take another.

“I’ve got her,” he said.

I watched him go. He knew which floorboard to step over outside her door and which book she would ask for if she woke properly. I heard him answer her in the rabbit’s squeaky voice.

By the time he came back, I had music playing low on my phone in our bedroom: a song I’d danced to for him in Millfield, barefoot between our bed and the ops room.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Dancing.” I turned away when he reached for my waist.

“I can see that.”

I waved him toward the bed. “You’re sitting over there.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. I came close enough for my thigh to brush his knee, then turned before he could touch me. His eyes followed my hips. He shifted on the mattress and adjusted the front of his jeans, too late to hide how hard he was.

“Enjoying yourself?” I asked.

“You’re killing me.”