Gilbert and Audrey arrived late in the morning, the sun already high and warm over the estate. The twins were in the playroom, engaged in what Lily had described as a "complete reorganization and deep cleaning" of the space. This meant, in practice, that every toy had been removed from its spot and spread across the floor, and Lily was now directing Leo in the careful work of putting everything back in a new, improved order.
"Everything has to be ready for the baby," Lily had explained at breakfast. "The playroom needs to be safe. No small toys on the floor where the baby could put them in his mouth. No sharp corners. We’re making it baby-proof."
"The baby won’t be in the playroom for a while," Arianne had pointed out. "He won’t be able to crawl for several months."
"Preparation is important. You can’t wait until the last minute. That’s what Aunt Estella says."
Arianne had not argued. The twins had been preparing for this baby. They had painted the nursery and assembled the crib and made lists of everything the baby would need. Reorganizing the playroom was the next logical step.
Now, with the twins occupied and the house to themselves, Arianne settled into the sitting room with Audrey while Franz and Gilbert went outside to set up the grill. It was a new addition to the estate—a gift from Vincent, who had decided that grilling was an essential life skill and that Franz needed to learn it immediately.
"I resigned from the paper," Audrey said, accepting a glass of lemonade from Arianne. "Last week was my final day."
"I heard. Gilbert mentioned it." Arianne eased herself onto the couch, one hand pressed to her lower back. At thirty-two weeks, sitting was an exercise in constant adjustment. "You’re joining Pemberton Corporation’s communications department."
"Someone needs to improve that company’s public image. Gilbert is brilliant at what he does, but his idea of public relations is scowling at reporters until they go away."
"That’s been his strategy for years."
"And it’s worked, somehow. But I think I can do better." Audrey smiled. "I’m looking forward to it, actually. It’s different from investigative journalism, but the skills are similar. Managing narratives. Controlling information. Making sure the right stories reach the right people."
"You’ll be excellent at it. And Gilbert needs the help."
"He does. He just doesn’t know it yet."
Arianne adjusted on the couch, finding a position that didn’t make her back ache. "How is married life? Now that the wedding is behind you and the honeymoon is over."
Audrey was pensive, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass.
"I’m still adjusting. I lived alone for a long time—years and years of having my own space, my own routines, my own silence. Having someone beside me every morning is different." She paused. "But not unwelcome. I thought it would be harder than it is. I thought I’d miss the solitude. And sometimes I do, a little. But mostly I just like having him there."
"I felt the same way. When Franz and I first married, it was strange. We’d known each other for years, but living together was different. I kept expecting him to get tired of me." Arianne’s hand moved to her belly. "Now I reach for him in bed without thinking. It bothers me when he’s not there. When he’s away for filming, I can’t sleep properly."
"You’ve gotten used to him."
"I’ve gotten dependent on him. There’s a difference."
"Is there?"
"Probably not." Arianne almost smiled. "You’re lucky, though. Gilbert doesn’t travel much for work. You won’t have to get used to an empty bed."
"No. He’s very present. Almost too present sometimes." Audrey laughed. "He has opinions about how I organize the kitchen cabinets. We’ve had three discussions about it."
"Arguments?"
"Discussions. He calls them discussions. I call them arguments. We’ve agreed to disagree on the terminology."
Outside, the sound of the grill being assembled drifted through the windows—metal on metal, Franz’s voice saying something, Gilbert’s responding with a laugh. The men were managing, or at least pretending to.
"Are you planning to start a family soon?" Arianne asked.
Audrey’s expression flickered, something between a smile and a sigh. "I want to. I’ve been thinking about it more and more. But Gilbert said we shouldn’t hurry. We were apart for years, and he wants to make up for the lost time before we welcome a baby. Just the two of us, for a while."
"That’s something Gilbert would say."
"He’s very determined about it. He has a whole plan."
Arianne shook her head. "That’s the most Gilbert thing I’ve ever heard."
"I know. I married an engineer in a CEO’s body." Audrey’s smile faded. "Are you upset? That he wants to wait?"
"No. I understand him. More than most people would." Arianne met her eyes. "He lost you once. He spent years believing he’d never get you back. Now that he has you, he wants to keep you to himself for a while. That’s not selfishness. That’s fear. He’s afraid of losing you again."
Audrey was thoughtful. "I didn’t think of it that way."
"He’ll come around. Give him time. He’s already made the first step—that means he’s planning for the future. He just needs to feel secure in the present first."
"Were you like this? Before you got pregnant? Did you need to feel secure?"
"I was terrified," Arianne said. She paused. "Franz helped me through it. He was patient. He waited for me to be ready. And eventually, I was."
Audrey looked at Arianne’s belly. "Was it hard? The pregnancy itself?"
"The first weeks were the worst. I lost my appetite completely. I couldn’t keep anything down—the morning sickness was relentless." Arianne’s voice was matter-of-fact, but the memory was still sharp. "I didn’t expect it to be so difficult. I thought I could manage pregnancy the way I manage everything else—with discipline and planning. But my body had other ideas."
"And now?"
"Now I feel better. The sickness has passed. I’m tired all the time, and I can’t see my feet, and I have to use the bathroom every hour. But I feel better." She rubbed her belly. "It’s Franz I’m worried about now. He’s been getting more anxious as the weeks pass. Not about becoming a father—he’s ready for that. It’s the birth itself that frightens him."
"The pain?"
"The pain. The risk. The possibility that something might go wrong. He’s read too many articles about complications. I told him to stop reading, but he won’t listen."
"Have you made a birth plan with the doctor?"
"Normal delivery. Dr. Johnson has everything prepared. The hospital is expecting us. There’s nothing to worry about. But Franz worries anyway."
Audrey nodded. "Gilbert would be the same. If it were me, he’d be insufferable."
"He would. He’s already insufferable, and you’re not even pregnant yet."
They both laughed, the sound light and warm.
Gilbert appeared in the doorway, his sleeves rolled up, a streak of something dark on his shirt that was probably grease from the grill. He stopped, his eyes dropping to her belly.
She was heavily pregnant now. There was no hiding it, no clever tailoring or strategic positioning. Her body had expanded to accommodate the life growing inside her, and the evidence was unmistakable.
Gilbert stared at her for a long moment. "You look very pregnant."
"I am very pregnant. That’s how pregnancy works."
"I know how pregnancy works. I’m just—" He paused, searching for the right words. "It’s surreal. Seeing you like this. For so many years, you told us you wouldn’t have children. You were so certain. Every time someone brought it up, you shut it down. And now here you are."
"Things change. People change." Arianne met his eyes. "I changed my mind for a good reason."
"What reason?"
"Franz. The twins. The life we built together. I realized I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. I wanted to give them—" She paused, her hand moving to her belly. "I wanted to give him a family. A real one. The kind I never had."
Gilbert was silent. Then understanding moved across his face, not just comprehension of her words, but something deeper. She was talking about more than her own choice. She was talking about his. His need to protect Audrey. His fear of losing what he had. His hesitation to move forward because the past had taught him that happiness could be taken away at any moment.
"In the end," Arianne said, "you understand me better than most people. More than anyone, you should know why I changed my mind."
Gilbert looked at her for a long moment. Then he nodded. "I do."
"Good. Now go help my husband with the grill before he burns something."
Gilbert turned to leave, then paused. "Arianne."
"Yes?"
"I’m glad you changed your mind."
She didn’t answer with words. She didn’t need to. The small smile on her face was enough.
The twins came downstairs a little while later, their cleaning project apparently complete. Lily burst through the back door. They had just reorganized an entire playroom and were ready for her next challenge.
"Uncle Franz! Uncle Gilbert! Can we help with the grill?"
"Absolutely not," Franz said. "It’s hot and dangerous."
"But we’re very careful. Leo is especially careful. He’s the most careful person in our whole family."
Leo appeared behind his sister, a plate of vegetables clutched in both hands. He set the plate down on the outdoor table, then looked up at Franz. "Careful," he said. The word was clear, precise the way Leo said everything.
Franz’s expression softened. "Yes, you are. Thank you for the vegetables, Leo. You can help by setting the table. Lily, you’re in charge of napkins."
"Napkins are boring."
"Napkins are essential. A table without napkins is incomplete."
Lily sighed, but she went inside to find the napkins anyway. Leo followed, presumably to ensure she didn’t get distracted.
Audrey stood and stretched. "I should go supervise. Gilbert is many things, but a grill master is not one of them."
"He’ll learn."
"He’ll try. That’s what matters."
She walked toward the patio. Through the windows, Arianne watched Gilbert frowning at the grill while Franz pointed at something and explained. The twins were setting the outdoor table, Lily complaining about napkins, Leo placing forks. Audrey appeared and rested her hand on Gilbert’s back, and he turned to look at her with an expression so tender it almost hurt to see.
Arianne pressed her hand to her belly. Thirty-two weeks. Eight more to go, give or take. The baby was moving, a slow, stretching sensation, as if he was trying to find a comfortable position and failing. She understood the feeling.
She had been so certain, once, that she would never have children. She had built her identity around that certainty. And then Franz had come along, Franz who had loved her since he was eight years old, and everything had changed.
Not everything was set in stone. Some things were worth changing your mind for.