Roman had been standing by the doorway, one his hand braced against the frame, when he heard Rebecca’s voice drift from Desiree’s room.

“…we could take a stroll later, you know. Just around the house. Fresh air is good for you. Good for the baby too.”

Roman didn’t like it.

He couldn’t place why, but something in Rebecca’s tone, too light, too eager, made the hairs on his neck rise. Desiree smiled, tired but nodded along while picking at the macaroni Rebecca had made her.

His ...