The first night Isolde slept in the travel bassinet in the corner of the bedroom and the Atlantic made its particular noise against the point below and Dax and I lay in Eleanor's bed looking at the ceiling.
"I've been thinking," he said.
"That's ominous," I said.
"It's not ominous," he said.
"You always sound like you're about to restructure something when you start a sentence that way," I said. "You've been thinking. Okay. What have you restructured."
"Nothing," he said. He turned his head to look at me. "I was thinking about what you said. About missing me. When Marisol was here."
I turned my head to look at him.
"We've been in the same building for five months," he said. "Same rooms. Same bed. And you said you missed me. I've been thinking about what that means."
"What have you
