The weeks that followed were the strangest of my life.
Strange not in the difficult way — I had had enough of difficult. Strange in the specific disorienting way of something good arriving unexpectedly in the middle of a situation that was supposed to be only complicated.
Dante came to the Coconut Grove house three times a week.
This was not what we had agreed — we had agreed on visits that were practical, focused on the pregnancy and the legal arrangements and the various complications that required management. But the practical visits had a way of extending. The check-in call that was supposed to be fifteen minutes became an hour. The Tuesday meeting that was supposed to cover only the updated legal framework turned into dinner on the porch and two hours talking about Miami architectu
