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His mouth was so close to hers she could feel the whisper of his breath. He had full lips, and for a second she wondered what it would be like if he kissed her.
    â€œI feel the way I did when I carried you over the threshold,” Grant said, moving toward the front door.
    Emma strained for the memory to return, but nothing surfaced. Instead, her head pounded in response.
    â€œRelax,” Grant said as if he’d read her mind. “Don’t try to force it—doctor’s orders.”
    Emma feigned a smile and tried to prepare herself mentally to see her home. And to meet her baby. Her stomach fluttered again when the door swung open.
    Her sister, Kate, stood there smiling, concern shadowing her face. “Hi, sis.” She motioned toward the couch. “I tried to clear the laundry off the sofa, but Carly can really go through the clothes. The bed’s ready, if you need to rest.”
    The thought of bed immediately sent Emma’s stomach into another spasm. But when she gazed into the homey room, she relaxed somewhat, imagining herself choosing the comfortable furnishings. Why had Grant sounded apologetic? The furniture might not be new, but it felt cozy. She immediately noticed a framed photo on the mantel—a picture of Grant, their baby and herself. Her throat closed when she saw the simple wicker bassinet sitting beside the couch. A thick pink baby comforter decorated with little white hearts lay drapedover the edge, and a teddy bear sat in the middle, its big button eyes pulling at her heartstrings.
    â€œWhat do you want to do, Emma?” Grant asked, stopping inside the wide-planked foyer. “I can take you upstairs—”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou want to peek at Carly? She’s taking a nap. Or you could see the rest of the house,” Kate suggested, wringing her hands. Emma tried to ignore the way her sister rattled on like a nervous Nellie, adding to the already tense and awkward homecoming. Emma didn’t need spectators to give her pitying looks or watch her reactions to the house. She wanted to explore it alone.
    â€œI’d like to sit in here for a minute.” Emma let her gaze sweep the room, hoping memories would flood her mind. Again nothing happened.
    â€œHow about the sofa?” Grant asked.
    â€œGreat. I’ve been in bed too long.” Grant eased her down and helped her get comfortable. Kate rushed to get a pillow and propped her foot on top of the stool.
    â€œAre you all right?” Grant asked. “Can I get you anything?”
    â€œI made some tea,” Kate said. “That spicy kind you like. Or how about coffee? Or I could make hot chocolate.”
    Irritation filled Emma. “Look, I’m not going to break, so you don’t have to hover,” she said, picking up a small stuffed lamb and hugging it to her chest as if the child’s toy could dissipate her worries.
    Grant simply stared at her, his expression more troubled than ever.
    Kate shifted uneasily and tugged at the hem of her oversize gray sweatshirt. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to help.”
    â€œI know. I’m sorry.” Emma heaved a sigh. “Just give me a minute.” She searched the room for something familiar. A comfortable-looking armchair that needed recovering sat in one corner. A pine table held a television and CD player. The rose-colored carpet looked fairly new, and an antique white wicker rocker faced the outside window. Solid rose-colored balloon shades allowed the sunlight to filter in while offering privacy.
    â€œYou made those,” Kate said.
    Emma’s eyes widened. “When did I learn how to sew?”
    Kate laughed. “I couldn’t believe it myself. You failed home ec in high school. But when you bought the house, you suddenly turned domestic.”
    â€œYou signed up for classes at the Decorating Center in town,” Grant added.
    â€œI wonder what else I can do,” Emma mumbled, her palms