The rest of the walk home passed in a hush that wasn't quite silence. The park had begun filling with the usual late-afternoon crowd—joggers, dog walkers, a couple taking photos by the fountain—but Willow and Zane drifted through it as though inside a thin glass bubble, barely touching the world around them. Every few steps he glanced at her stomach, not out of fear but with an instinct that seemed older than both of them. Each time, she had to force her breath to stay steady.
By the time they reached her building, Willow's legs felt heavy, and her thoughts felt even heavier. She felt more acutely aware of his presence now than she had all day—of his hand hovering near her elbow without touching, of the way he kept adjusting his pace to match hers, of the small frown that appeared each time she winced or slowed.
