The nursery light was still on at midnight.
Derek stood in the middle of the room on a low ladder, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, brush in hand, carefully applying a soft shade of cream to the upper section.
The furniture had been pushed to the centre and draped in old sheets, and the white crib sat under a dust cover in the corner.
The wall was going the softest shades of green and cream. Kira had chosen them and Derek had privately thought they looked like boiled sweets when she'd first held up the little cards, but had wisely said nothing at all.
Now that half the room wore the colours, he had to admit she'd been right. They were warm, gentle, and looked like a room a small person could be happy in.
The door creaked open behind him, and Kira stepped inside, wearing one of his old shirts over her nightdress, her hair loose around her shoulders. She paused, eyes widening as she took in the room.
