He stood under the awning in a navy coat, holding an umbrella he had no reason to be holding because he wasn’t using it. He looked at the baby first and me second.
“Is he warm enough?” he asked.
It was such a ridiculous question coming from him that I nearly laughed.
“He’s fine.”
He walked beside us into the clinic without another word.
Inside, I handled the paperwork. I gave the receptionist the discharge summary, insurance card, appointment slip, and the note from the hospital about premature delivery. I saw her eyes soften when she looked at Leo.
“Tiny guy,” she murmured.
“Yes,” I said.
The waiting room chairs were hard molded plastic. A TV in the corner played a silent nature documentary with subtitles. Maya sat beside me. Ethan sat across, knees apart, elbows on thighs, hands clasped. He looked like he was waiting for a verdict.
When the nurse called us back, I said, “You can come in, but stay quiet. He startles.”
He nodded.