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Day two left, I went to the hospital to pick up a few medications for the trip. I walked straight into Dante and Isobel coming out of her OB appointment.

A rare flash of panic went through Dante's eyes. He opened his mouth. Isobel got there first.

She stepped toward me. Took my hand. Her eyes welled up right on cue.

"Nina. I know you never wanted Dante and me to have this baby. But I can't wait, I really can't. The doctors said I have a year, tops. I just want to see him born. Please."

"Once the baby's here, I'll disappear. I swear. I won't come between you and Dante. I swear it."

I hadn't opened my mouth yet. Dante reached out and steadied her, that wounded-tender look back on his face.

"You can't get worked up like this. Your body can't take it."

He turned to me. His eyes were unreadable. "Don't worry. This doesn't change the wedding."

I looked at them for a beat, then looked away.

"Got it."

I took my medications and went. I had packing to finish.

The two of them hadn't expected me to be this calm. Dante especially. His expression shifted—complicated, disturbed—as he watched me walk off.

He'd braced for a month-long war like last time. Instead, I was silent.

Quietly, under his sternum, Dante felt something shift. Something he couldn't quite catch. Something moving underneath everything that he hadn't noticed until now.