“If he gets inside…” I ignore her. “They can’t help you. Not if they don’t know. I prefer you to come to the house of course,” I start, putting it out there. She scoffs at the idea. “But I won’t drag you there against your will.”

“Wow, that’s a change for you. Does it hurt to consider what someone else wants?”

I grit my teeth. “It’s safer for you if Pestilence stays. He won’t let anything happen to you.”

As if sensing the tension, Pestilence comes to nudge Mercedes to pet him. “He can stay. I’d love for him to stay. But not because I’m scared.”

I nod. “That’s all I want. I have his things outside. Food, a bed, everything he needs. Paolo will replenish his supplies. You just call me if you need anything. Anything at all. I can come to walk him—”

“I’m sure I can handle walking him.”

“Of course. Let me go get his things.” I walk out of the house, noticing the shopping bag of diapers by the stairs. One of the guards helps me unload Pestilence’s supplies.

“Where would you like him to sleep?” I ask Mercedes when we’re alone again.

“With me.”

I nod, and without waiting for an invitation, I carry his bed and the bag of infant’s diapers that are already sitting by the steps up the staircase. She follows and directs me where to put his bed. I then stand facing her, the bag of diapers in my hand, completely at a loss for what to do but unwilling to leave.

“Those go in the nursery.”

I follow her down the hall to the room freshly painted in shades of the softest green and yellow, stickers of colorful animals on all the walls, two cribs set at opposite ends, a changing table, and boxes and boxes of unpacked things for the babies.

She watches me as I take it in.

“You can put the bag down, Judge.”

I turn to her and nod. “Where do you want the diapers?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Please. Let me.”

She points at the cupboard under the changing table, and I get on my knees to unpack the impossibly small diapers. I stack them along with the baby wipes, then stand back up.

“Do you need anything?” I ask.

“We’re fine. We have everything we could need,” she says, hand on her belly. I want to ask if they’re moving. If I can touch them. But I know I can’t.

“Oh.” I reach into my pocket and take out the envelope there. I hold it out to her.

She takes it and looks inside.