For months now, Maggie had been getting up in the middle of the night to warm a bottle and feed the baby. There was a night light in the hall, so she didn’t have to disturb Joe. It was an automatic reflex: She heard Sophie whimper in the next room and then found herself in the kitchen, warming the bottle. She yawned, tested the formula temperature against the inside of her wrist, and moved down the hall.
“What are you doing?” Joe stood in their bedroom doorway, dark against the dim light.
“Fixing Sophie’s bottle.”
“But she’s asleep.”
Maggie frowned. “I heard her fussing. She must have gone back to sleep.”
“I didn’t hear anything.” Joe touched her arm. “I think you were dreaming.”
“That’s entirely possible,” Maggie said. She chuckled and leaned into him. “So maybe there’s hope that I won’t be doing this forever?”
Copyright © 2013 Loretta Miles Tollefson