They didn’t have much. Not in the way people usually meant it. Mike worked maintenance for a commercial building downtown. Carrie managed a small team at a logistics firm—steady work, decent pay, no safety net. Their apartment in Pittsburgh was clean but cramped, with thin walls and a view of the parking lot instead of the river. They made it work.
They always had. The early months of Maxine’s life passed in fragments—night feedings, half-slept days, milestones noticed more by feel than by calendar. The first laugh. The first word. The way she reached for Mike’s face and gripped his beard like it was something solid she could trust. He’d never felt more useful in his life.