That was enough. Helen straightened with the authority of a woman who had raised a son alone and survived far worse than inconvenience. “You are not staying on a bench with three babies,” she declared. “Matthew has an apartment standing empty, and he will not argue with me.”
Matthew opened his mouth, then closed it again, because the truth was he did not want to argue. “You can stay,” he said quietly. “Until you find something stable.”
Paige’s pride flickered, then dimmed under the weight of exhaustion. “For the children,” she said at last. “Only for them.”
The apartment in Cherry Creek was silent and immaculate, unused despite its comfort. Paige stepped inside as if afraid to leave footprints. While Matthew left to buy supplies, Helen took charge with practical efficiency, feeding babies, heating water, and insisting Paige eat something real. When Matthew returned hours later, the space had transformed into something living, filled with soft sounds and purpose.
