Upstairs, Oliver made a small sound in sleep and settled. Laura climbed the stairs without hurry, past the place where Rachel had stood with the infant and said he just woke up, past the landing where Laura's old life had cracked and begun, painfully, to admit light.
In their bedroom Daniel looked up from folding laundry. "You okay?"
"I was remembering," she said.
"The night."
"The night." She sat on the bed. "I asked whose baby that was. You didn't answer right away."
"I was terrified."
"You should have been." She reached for a tiny sock that had migrated into their laundry, Oliver's, striped. "I have an answer now, for myself. He's Chris and Mara's. He's Rachel's nephew. He's Ethan's whoever-he-is. He's yours by law. And he's mine by the choice I kept making after I stopped wanting to burn the house down."
Daniel sat beside her. "That's a long answer."