“She’s smaller than the rabbit,” he whispered.
“Most babies are,” Keaton said.
Elio frowned at him.
“I’m talking to Mom.”
He offered one finger, and the baby’s hand closed around it.
Elio’s entire face softened.
“I’m your brother,” he told her. “Nobody gets to be mean to you.”
I cried because I thought I was looking at the beginning of their bond.
The following afternoon, Keaton drove us home.
I was exhausted, sore, and struggling to stay awake. Elio sat in the back beside the car seat, but he did not chatter the way he usually did.
Halfway home, I turned to look at him.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
He stared out the window.
“I’m tired.”
I assumed the hospital had overwhelmed him.
When we reached the house, Keaton carried the car seat upstairs. I followed slowly with one hand pressed against my stomach. Elio came behind me until we reached the nursery.
