CLAUDE
THE BABY MONITOR crackled. Followed by the muffled sound of a soft cry, then another, louder this time and Nikolai stirred beside me.
“f**k—I’ve got it,” he said, already halfway up when I put hand on his chest.
“No. It’s okay. I’ve got it,” I said, and there was a pause—barely a beat—but I saw him watching me as I slipped out from under the sheets. He didn’t stop me. Just reached up and brushed his fingers against my wrist as I passed.
The hallway of our home was silent, my feet soft against the floor as I rushed into the room next to ours.
I pushed open the nursery door, turned on the lights and found him there, arms flailing softly against the sides of his crib. His cheeks were flushed from sleep, little fists clenched like he had opinions already. His hair—my hair—was st
