Daniel warmed milk in a small saucepan. The act felt strange in his hands. He could negotiate a nine-figure acquisition without looking down at his notes, but he had not warmed milk for a child once in his life.
Clare opened a cabinet and took out a clean mug.
Daniel glanced at her.
She avoided his eyes. “It’s better than a glass. Easier for him to hold.”
Annie watched everything with a worried expression. “That’s too much.”
“It’s milk,” Daniel said.
“Noah doesn’t need all of it.”
“There’s more.”
That seemed to confuse her more than anything else.
When he placed the warm milk in front of her, Annie touched the side of the mug first, testing it like an adult. Then she lifted it to Noah’s mouth. The baby drank slowly at first, then with weak hunger. Both his little hands wrapped around the mug while Annie supported most of its weight.
Color returned faintly to his face.
Daniel watched in silence.
After a few sips, Annie tried to pull the mug away.
“He can have more,” Daniel said.
“He had some.”
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