"It was a long question."
They folded in silence for a while. Outside, cicadas wound up their late-summer machinery. Somewhere a neighbor mowed a lawn as if order could be achieved with enough passes.
Laura leaned her head on Daniel's shoulder. "If Chris asks you again, in some other life, in some other armchair—ask me first."
"I will."
"And if a woman comes down our stairs with a baby—"
"I'll tell you before she reaches the bottom step."
She smiled against his shirt. "Deal."
They finished the laundry. They checked on Oliver. They texted Rachel a photo of him face-down and drooling, and Rachel replied with a heart and a complaint about her building's dryer. Ethan came home sticky with popsicle and talked through dinner without pause. The portraits kept their counsel. The stone fireplace held no fire. The foyer waited for whatever arrivals the years would still bring.