He reached the nursery door, bracing himself for the usual scene—panic, tears, maybe a nanny on the verge of quitting.
He shoved the door open.
And froze.
The room wasn’t dark.
A warm golden lamp bathed the nursery in soft light.
And the sound—what he’d mistaken for cries echoing through the hall—was laughter.
Pure, unstoppable laughter.
In the center of the room, standing on the plush cream rug, was Vanessa. She still wore her neat navy uniform.
But on her hands were oversized, bright yellow rubber dishwashing gloves.
She had huge headphones over her ears and was dancing.
Not gracefully.
Ridiculously.
She wiggled her hips, crossed her eyes, puffed out her cheeks, and used the floppy yellow gloves like puppets, making them “argue” with each other in dramatic silence. She spun, tripped on purpose, and flailed like a cartoon character.
In their cribs, Liam and Theo were standing, gripping the rails.
They weren’t crying.
Their faces were flushed with joy. Their small hands clapped wildly as they squealed with laughter.
Adrian felt the ground shift under him.