“May I?” he asked.
The question was so quiet that I almost missed it.
I hesitated.
Then I nodded.
He sat beside me, leaving a careful space between us, and placed his palm lightly against the curve of my stomach.
The baby moved again, a small roll beneath his hand.
Alexander’s face changed.
All the practiced composure fell away, and something tender and almost disbelieving appeared in its place.
“Hello,” he murmured.
The baby pressed against his palm.
He let out a shaky breath.
“I’m here,” he said, his voice catching. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I looked away before I could see whether he was crying.
For one brief moment, I could imagine another life, one in which the auction had never happened and
we were simply two nervous parents waiting for their child.
The image hurt more than I expected.
Alexander withdrew his hand and returned to his chair.
