Not curious.
Blank.
The kind of blank that comes when a person starts doing math they desperately do not want to finish.
His pregnant wife stared at him.
“Trevor?”
Simone did not move.
Her son had caught the edge of the stroller blanket between two fingers and was chewing on it. Her daughter had gone back to sleep, unaware that every adult around her had suddenly forgotten how to breathe.
Trevor swallowed.
“Twenty-two months?”
“Yes.”