(Rebecca's POV)
Two in the morning, and my daughter's three weeks old, and she's finally settled against my chest with that particular boneless weight babies get when sleep actually takes hold instead of just visiting for a minute before startling off again.
The nursing chair creaks a little when I shift, quiet, careful, and I look down at her — dark lashes, a fist curled up near her chin like she's holding onto something invisible — and my mind, unhelpfully, decides this is exactly the moment to remember a promise I made six months ago and have not thought about properly in weeks.
Africa. I told Jack we'd go. A whole month, the two of us, before school picked back up in the fall — some big, deliberate thing I offered him on a Saturday afternoon when he asked, half-joking, half-hopeful,
