A month passed the way months did now, folded into school runs and board meetings and the ordinary business of raising three children under one roof. Lexx had grown into himself over it, seven months old and considerably heavier for it, cheeks rounder, a fist of dark hair that refused every attempt to smooth it down. For most of that month he'd been an easy baby, the kind who laughed at nothing and slept through most nights without complaint.
The last four days had undone all of that.
He'd started refusing his bottle first, turning his face away from it with a persistence that read less like a phase and more like a grievance. Then came the crying, low and constant, the kind that didn't resolve with rocking or singing or any of the usual tricks that had worked reliably since he was born. He wouldn't settle in anyone's arms for longer than a few minutes, not even Gio's, which alarmed the household more than the crying itself.
