The week between Christmas and New Year's passed in a peaceful blur.
Aria spent most of it relaxing at the penthouse, reading baby books and organizing the nursery that was slowly taking shape. The room had been painted a soft cream with pale pink accents, it was not overwhelmingly feminine, but warm and welcoming. The crib Damien and Marcus had assembled stood against one wall, waiting for Emma's arrival in seven months.
Seven months felt both impossibly far away and frighteningly close.
On the morning of December thirty-first, Aria woke to Damien already dressed in running clothes.
"Going for a run?" she asked, surprised. He usually didn't run in winter.
"Last run of the year," he said, leaning down to kiss her. "I'm trying to start a new tradition, so I thought I'd clear my head be
