“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know what people expect anymore.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
She stepped aside.
Ethan entered the apartment, but he didn’t immediately look around. He focused on the bags in his hands and set them down beside the kitchen counter.
Only then did he notice the details.
The flickering ceiling bulb.
The bare cupboards.
The small portable crib pushed against the wall.
The stack of red-stamped notices on the table.
And the woman standing in front of him, trying desperately to appear composed while her hands trembled.
He recognized that expression.
It was the face of someone who had been holding everything together for so long that even a small act of kindness threatened to make her fall apart.
“Where’s her bottle?” he asked.
“The sink.”
“May I?”
Clara nodded.
Ethan removed his coat, washed his hands thoroughly, and prepared the bottle according to the instructions on the formula packaging. He checked the measurements carefully and made sure the bottle was at an appropriate temperature.
