I pushed it open, my boots loud on the hardwood entryway.

“June!” I called out.

The kitchen was at the back of the house, overlooking the gray Atlantic.

I walked in, my chest heaving and my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Carter sat at the marble island, holding a steaming mug of coffee.

June was in her infant carrier on the kitchen table, her tiny fists waving in the air.

She had stopped crying, but her cheeks were still flushed and wet with tears.

The nurse, Sarah, stood by the stove, her face pale and her fingers twitching at her apron.

“Evelyn,” Sarah whispered. “Mr. Hartwell said he was taking her for a checkup.”

“It’s fine, Sarah,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage.

“Go upstairs and pack your things for the day. Take the afternoon off.”

Sarah looked between Carter and me, nodded quickly, and hurried out of the kitchen.

Once her footsteps faded on the stairs, I stepped closer to the table.

I kept my hands flat on the marble island, trying to stop the shaking.