“Abby called, pulling out her selections and arranging them on the table. “Three kinds.” Still nothing. “Sam?” Her stomach knotted up with worry. Was he avoiding her on purpose? “I’m back here.” She followed the sound of his voice down the hallway. There, the nursery door was cracked. Pushing it the rest of the way open, she stepped inside. The walls were still the pale aquamarine Sam had painted them a month ago, and the twin white cribs and matching changing table were just where she remembere...d them being. Still, the room had been transformed. “You did this?” she asked, frozen on the woven rug they’d used to provide the hardwood floor with some cushion and color. “Yeah.” He stood there with his arms crossed, grinning, obviously proud of the decorating he’d done while she’d been gone on her salad dressing errand. “What do you think?” “I love it.” She walked a slow circuit of the room, examining each of half a dozen framed prints even though she’d already memorized every line and curve of the drawings they displayed.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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