I stared at the photo until the edges of it blurred, until Dominic's voice broke through from somewhere far away.
"Elena. Elena, look at me."
I couldn't. My eyes were fixed on that small yellow room, on a crib that hadn't been built, in a house I hadn't chosen, for a child I hadn't even decided a name for yet.
"It's not real," I whispered. "It can't be real. I haven't even thought about a nursery yet. I don't own anything. I don't have anywhere to put a crib."
"Show me." Dominic took the phone gently from my shaking hands, and I watched his face harden as he studied the image, his jaw working like he was fighting to stay calm for my sake.
"It's a mock-up," he said finally. "Look at the edges here, and here. It's been altered. Layered together, probably from a stock photo and something
