KAI
The nursery smelled like fresh linen and lavender—Alexis’s doing. She swore it had a calming effect, though from the way she was aggressively folding another tiny onesie with the precision of a soldier prepping for inspection, I wasn’t sure it was working.
I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her rearrange the already meticulously arranged dresser. Again. Every little sock had a designated place. Every blanket was folded to the exact same size. Every stuffed animal had been lined up, then adjusted twice.
“You know the baby won’t care if the stuffed animals are perfectly aligned, right?”
Alexis didn’t even pause, just shot me a look over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised in a silent warning.
“And yet, I care,” she said, her voice deceptively calm. “And since I’m the
