"Laura, wait."
Footsteps on the stairs. A woman came down carefully, pajama pants soft against the wood, a loose cardigan slipping from one shoulder, an infant held close against her chest. She looked about thirty-four, attractive in the unguarded way of someone who had not expected company, dark hair pulled back, face still soft with interrupted sleep.
"He just woke up."
Laura stared.
"Who is she?"
Ethan, still holding her sleeve, answered with the serene certainty of a child who had already absorbed a new arrangement into the furniture of his life.
"She stays here now."
Daniel stepped forward too quickly.