When it was time to leave, Catherine instinctively packed Charlotte's things: bottles, blanket, wipes, moving with quiet efficiency. She secured the baby into the carrier with practiced care.
Maximilian watched her and sighed softly.
"What?" she asked, glancing at him. "Amelia asked if you could keep the baby a little longer. I said yes." She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I don't think she's ready to take care of her."
Maximilian gave a small shrug.
He agreed.
And, if he was honest, he liked that Catherine had answered on his behalf. It felt… domestic. Natural. As if they were already standing on the same side of something.
As if she were his wife.
The thought warmed him more than it should.
But beneath that warmth was something heavier.
Babies were dangerous territory for her.
He knew what she had endured in her past life. Knew what loss had carved into her soul. Also, she was still believing he killed her children.
