“I want to go back.”
Abigail paused in the process of adding formula to the bottle she was making for Arlo. She looked up at Gabriel seated at the island in the middle of the kitchen, peeling an orange with a knife. “Well, that took you long enough,” she finally said.
“What?” Gabriel stopped the movement of the sharp blade. The orange was only half peeled, its citrus smell filling the air with the promise of sweet juicy goodness, but Gabriel set everything down on the plate and stared at Abigail. “You are not surprised? Or wondering why?”
Abigail scoffed and then frowned at the bottle in her hand when she realized she couldn’t remember how many spoons she had already scooped in. With a frustrated huff, she dumped all the formula back into the tin and started again. Only when she was don
