Aria's POV
Eight months in, and I had officially entered the stage Evelyn diplomatically called "restless" and Damien, considerably less diplomatically, called "reorganizing the entire nursery for the fourth time this week."
"The blankets go here," I said, adjusting the small stack for what was, admittedly, the fourth time. "No — here. The light hits better in the mornings."
Damien watched from the doorway, amusement and tenderness warring openly on his face. "The blankets have been in three different positions since breakfast."
"They need to be right."
"They're blankets, Aria."
"They're Elara's blankets," I corrected, and something in my tone must have carried enough genuine emotion that his amusement gentled into understanding.
He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around me fr
