Ryan’s POV
The evening is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels heavy rather than soothing, the fire murmuring low in the hearth while Amelia and I sit together, the shadows stretching long across the floor as the last of the day fades away. She has that look again, the look she gets when her thoughts are full of plans and strategies, when her mind is already three steps ahead of me, weaving threads I have not yet begun to see. I know she is waiting for the right moment, because she always does, waiting for the opening when her words will settle rather than collide.
When she finally speaks, her voice is calm, measured, as if she has rehearsed it carefully. “I’ve been working on the guest list for the party. I want it to be more than a celebration of the baby. I want it to be an opportunity
