EPILOGUE #3
Her attention shifted to the closed laptop. “The spreadsheet didn’t survive?”
“It relied on faulty assumptions.” I nodded toward the table.
Brynn smiled. “Zoe being one of them?”
“The primary one.” I looked down at our daughter.
Brynn reached for her, and I transferred Zoe carefully into her arms.
She gathered her close and kissed the top of her head, keeping her eyes closed while she held her there. Zoe stirred at the movement, then relaxed again against her mother.
“How long was I gone?” Brynn asked.
I checked the time. “Two hours and twenty-four minutes.”
“That’s it?” She turned toward the clock.
“I told her you wouldn’t make it until lunch.” I touched one finger to Zoe’s curled hand.
“And yet here I am after lunch.” Brynn pointed toward the time.
“It’s eleven thirty-eight.”
“Close enough.” She leaned into my side.
“It isn’t.” I rested one hand against her back.
She smiled against Zoe’s hair.
A small crease appeared between Zoe’s brows before she made the same miserable sound she had made throughout the morning.
Brynn lifted her head. “What’s wrong?”
“Leo believes she’s teething.” I nodded toward him.
“She is teething.” Brynn touched one finger to Zoe’s cheek. “She’s been chewing on everything for days.”
“You knew?” I asked.
“I suspected.” She rubbed her thumb beneath Zoe’s lower lip.
Leo placed the cloth beside the sink. “I told him what my grandmother used.”
Brynn glanced at him. “He said no?”
I turned toward her.
She paused.
“You’ve already done it.” I watched her expression.
“A few times.” Brynn adjusted Zoe against her chest.
Leo’s eyebrows rose.
Marina began removing tomatoes from one of the bags with unusual concentration.
“When?” I asked.
“The nights she wouldn’t settle.” Brynn focused on Zoe instead of me.
“How much?”
“Barely enough to wet my finger.” She finally met my gaze.
“And it worked?”
Brynn gave me a cautious smile. “Every time.”
She crossed to the cabinet and removed the bottle of ouzo I had seen there repeatedly without questioning why we owned it.
“You don’t drink ouzo.” I followed her to the counter.
“No.” She set it down.
I waited.
“I didn’t think it was important.” Brynn reached for the cap.
“You applied alcohol to our daughter.” I looked from the bottle to her.
“That sounds worse than what I did.” She twisted it open.
“It’s what you did.” I folded my arms.
Brynn washed her hands, touched the tip of one finger to the inside of the cap, then wiped most of it against her own tongue.
The amount left was negligible.
That did not make it medically sound.
She rubbed the faint remainder across Zoe’s gums.
Zoe’s mouth closed around Brynn’s fingertip. The strain left her face, and her grip loosened against Brynn’s shirt.
Within seconds, she was quiet.
Leo looked at me.
I ignored him.
“How many times?” I kept my attention on Zoe.
“Three.” Brynn recapped the bottle.
“And the response was the same?”
“Yes.” She returned it to the cabinet.
I indicated the cold washcloth near the sink. “We use that first.”
“Okay.” Brynn shifted Zoe higher.
“The teething ring second.” I pointed toward it beside the bassinet.
“Okay.” Her mouth began to curve.
“And if neither works, a trace amount may be considered.” I looked at the bottle before meeting her eyes.
Her smile widened.
Behind us, Leo said something quietly in Greek.
Marina burst out laughing.
“I understood enough of that.” I turned toward him.
Leo’s expression remained innocent. “I said you are a reasonable man who respects the wisdom of Greek grandmothers.”
“No, you didn’t.” I held his gaze.
“Not exactly,” Marina said from the kitchen.
Brynn kissed my cheek. “Look at you, adapting.”
“I’m revising based on additional information.” I slipped one arm around her.
“Exactly.” She rested against my side.
Zoe lay against her chest, one hand wrapped around Brynn’s finger.
I had known she would be safe with me, but that had not made Brynn’s first steps toward the car any easier.
After spending the morning carrying our daughter from one end of the cottage to the other because she refused to remain anywhere else, I understood the distinction.
Brynn glanced at me. “What?”
“You made it to Kalamata.” I brushed my thumb along her back.
“I did.” She sounded pleased with herself.
“Was it difficult?”
“I only asked Marina to turn around twice.” Brynn looked toward the kitchen.
Marina placed another tomato on the counter. “Three times, and once before we reached the main road.”
Brynn looked over her shoulder. “Traitor.”
“You asked me to keep driving,” Marina said. “I’m honoring the courage of your decision.”
Brynn rested her head against my shoulder. “You were right. She was fine.”
Zoe moved between us.
I touched the back of her tiny hand.
The cottage filled around us with Marina opening cabinets, Brynn murmuring to Zoe, and Leo insisting in Greek that the rabbit’s uneven ear was intentional.
Nothing had gone according to plan.
Tomorrow, Zoe might reject the same bottle again. The washcloth might work, or it might not.
I would adjust. I didn’t need to know what she would ask of me before she asked.
I only needed to be here.