Month Three: November
Thanksgiving arrived cold and gray.
Isla woke to Sera crying—her new normal—and realized this was the first major holiday without Killian.
First of six Thanksgivings he'd miss.
First of six Christmases. Six New Years. Six birthdays for Sera that he wouldn't attend.
The weight of it crushed her some mornings.
This was one of those mornings.
"I know, baby," Isla murmured, lifting Sera from her crib. "I miss him too. Even though you don't really know him yet. You miss him anyway. Because he's supposed to be here."
Sera just blinked those increasingly ice-blue eyes and rooted for milk.
Priorities. Babies had them. Holidays weren't one of them.
Mara had gone home for Thanksgiving—back to their father's house for a family meal Isla had declined to attend.
"You should come," Mara had urged. "Dad wants to see you. See Sera. Have actual family time."
