At exactly 3:04 a.m., Ryan shot upright in bed as if something had bitten him!
I froze mid-turn, one hand still cradling my belly, the other clutching the pillow wedged under my hip.
« I’m sorry, » I whispered. « I can’t help it. The baby’s kicking, and my back… »
He didn’t let me finish. He just stared at me with a flat, tired look, as if I were a leaky faucet he’d been meaning to fix.
« Then you need to sleep somewhere else! »
Ryan shot upright in bed!
My husband reached across to the kitchen counter, grabbed my car keys, and tossed them onto the comforter between us.
« You’ve got reclining seats. »
I just stared at him. He had to be joking.
« Ryan… I’m eight months pregnant. »
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