The baby monitor crackles to life with Morgan's soft gurgles, pulling me from my computer screen. I glance at the time - 2:37 AM. Through the monitor, I can see Eliot already there, gently rocking her back to sleep. It's been three weeks since she appeared at our brewpub, and somehow we've fallen into this rhythm.

I pad quietly down the hallway, not wanting to disturb them, but pause at the doorway. Eliot's humming softly, a tune I don't recognize, his large hands小心翼翼 around her tiny body. There's a tenderness in his expression I've rarely seen before.

Behind me, Parker materializes like a shadow, her warm breath tickling my neck as she presses close. "He's good with her," she whispers, her fingers lacing through mine.

I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene in front of us. "He's good with us, too," I reply quietly. The unspoken question hangs in the air between us - when will we stop dancing around what's right in front of us?

Eliot looks up then, catching us in the doorway. For a long moment, none of us speak. The only sound is Morgan's steady breathing and the distant hum of the refrigerator. Then he gestures us inside, his expression unreadable.

We step into the small room, and suddenly the space feels charged with possibility and uncertainty. This is the moment we've been circling for months - maybe years. The question isn't just about Morgan anymore. It's about us.

What happens next?