“Everything is important when people are trying to look important.”
I almost snapped back, but Ethan walked into the room just then carrying a stack of baby books and lifted one brow in silent question. I shook my head. Not worth it.
He set the books down, crossed the room, and took the phone gently from my hand.
“Mrs. Bennett,” he said, voice warm and maddeningly composed, “I promise Amelia won’t be alone. My team knows where I am, her doctors know how to reach me, and if anything changes, I’ll be on the first plane back.”
My mother paused, disarmed by politeness. “Well. I certainly hope so.”
He handed the phone back, kissed my temple, and went to zip the hospital bag for the third time that week.
After the call ended, I watched him move around the nursery with that efficient grace he carried everywhere, and a nervousness I had been trying to ignore tightened in my chest.
“You don’t have to go,” I said.
He turned. “I do.”
There was no ego in the answer. Just fact.