Ethan cried. Oliver, sensing weather, cried too. Daniel nodded too fast. Laura felt relief and loss braid together until she could not tell which strand was which.
"You'll still come," Ethan said, fierce. "For pancakes. For Oliver's bath sometimes."
"I'll come," Rachel promised. "I'm not disappearing. I'm just getting my own sink."
They helped her move on a Saturday in February. The guest room emptied. The photo of teenage Mara and Rachel went with her. Laura stood in the doorway of the vacant room and felt the house exhale and also diminish.
That night Daniel found Laura in the nursery, watching Oliver sleep. The baby had begun to roll; the crib netting was new.
"Regretting spring?" Daniel asked softly.
"Regretting everything and nothing," Laura said. "Is that an answer Dr. Patel would accept?"
"She'd make you unpack it for forty-five minutes."