I stood in the parking lot long after the lock clicked.
Then I drove to the nearest twenty-four-hour store and bought every item she had listed. I spent fifteen minutes in the baby aisle staring at different bottle nipples like a man trying to decode a foreign language. A young cashier with purple glasses watched me pile diapers, wipes, formula, pacifiers, tiny blankets, and a thermometer onto the counter.
“First-time dad?” she asked kindly.
The question struck so deep I could only nod.
“Yeah,” I said. “Very first time.”
At home, Claire was waiting.
The house looked unchanged from the outside, all stone, glass, and careful lighting. Inside, flowers for the wedding sat in sample arrangements across the foyer table. White roses. Pale green eucalyptus. Claire had chosen them because, she said, they looked pure.
She stood at the foot of the staircase in a silk robe, hair loose, one hand resting on the banister.
