Into Gemma’s mind came a memory of a forgotten nightmare – a massive meteorite hurtling through deep space. Perhaps this was the meteorite from the dream, breaking up instead of threatening her, showering a blessing instead of catastrophe.
Gemma leaned to kiss her baby’s soft eyelids.
‘I thought it was a great sign,’ said Mike. ‘Three lucky stars.’
Gemma blinked and attempted a smile. She nearly told Mike that in the old days, such signs were read as portents of disaster. Instead, she made a silent promise that she would do everything in her power to make a good life for herself, her baby and this man beside her. Then she turned back to her sleeping son.
‘Lucky stars,’ she repeated. ‘We should thank them.’