The cork popped with a sound as festive as champagne. They toasted each other, the baby, the absent Sunny, the past and the future. Cal joined them, drawn in by their pleasure in each other. Here was one more thing that time hadn’t changed, he thought. The giddy delight a coming baby brought to people who wanted it.

He’d never thought very seriously about starting a family. He’d known that when the time, and the woman, were right the rest would fall into place. Now he caught himself imagining what it would be like if he and Libby were toasting their own expected child.

Dangerous thoughts. Impossible thoughts. He had only a matter of days left with her—hours, really—and families required a lifetime.

Even as he yearned for one life, watching Libby’s parents together reminded him of his own family. Were they watching the sky, wondering where he was, how he was? If only he could let them know he was safe.

“Cal?”

“Hmm? What?” He blinked and saw Libby staring at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I was just saying we should build a fire.”

“Sure.”

“One of my favorite spots here is in front of the fire.” Caroline hooked her arm through William’s. “I’m so glad we stopped by for the night.”

“For the night?” Libby repeated.

“We’re on our way to Carmel,” Caroline decided on the spot, and gave William’s hand a vicious squeeze before he could speak. “I craved a ride along the Coast.”

“What she craved was a cheeseburger under her alfalfa sprouts,” William said. “That’s when I knew she was pregnant.”

“And being pregnant entitles me to an afternoon nap.” Caroline sent her husband a slow smile. “Why don’t you tuck me in?”

“I could use a nap myself.” With his arm around her shoulders, they started out. “Carmel? Last I heard we were spending a week here. Since when are we going to Carmel?”

“Since four’s a crowd, dummy.”

“That may be, but I haven’t decided if I like the idea of Libby being with him.”

“She likes it.” Caroline walked into the bedroom and was flooded with memories. The nights they’d shared, and the mornings. They’d made love in that bed, argued politics, planned ways to save the world from itself. She’d laughed there, cried there and given birth there. She sat on the edge and let her hands run over the spread. She could almost feel the murmur of memories.

Will, his hands tucked in the back pocket of his jeans, paced to the window.