One evening, I caught Ryan staring at my belly from across the kitchen with a look I couldn’t name. I decided it was awe.
« What? » I laughed. « Do I have spaghetti sauce on my shirt? »
I told myself he was tired.
« Nothing, » he said. « You’re just really pregnant. »
« That’s the plan. »
My husband smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and I filed that away under pregnancy paranoia and let it go.
***
Rachel called me the following morning, the way she always did.
« How are my nephews? »
« Kicking me as if they’re mad about something. »
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