Sienna

Jaxon was still sitting there, frozen like a statue, cereal going soggy in his bowl.

I kept pretending to scroll through my phone like I was comparing baby stroller brands.

“Okay,” I said, casually. “So… between pink and white cribs, which one do you think would look cuter?”

He blinked. “You can’t be serious.”

I tilted my head. “You don’t like pink?”

He put his hands on his head. “Sienna—”

“Yes, dear?” I said sweetly, still pretending to ...