Compared to the thin, awkward teenager I remembered, she had filled out completely. Her face held that soft, full roundness common in pregnancy, and she wore a loose, comfortable maternity dress, one hand resting gently over her heavily rounded belly by instinct.
"J-Jane..." Her lips shook, and she tried to slam the door shut almost on reflex.
I had expected exactly this.
I set my foot firm in the gap, pushed the door steadily open before she could pull it back, and stepped inside.
What I saw inside hit me harder than I could have imagined.
A thick, plush carpet covered the center of the living room. The simple, modern furniture I had searched so carefully to choose had been pushed off to the corners.
In its place stood soft, overstuffed fabric sofas that clashed with every style in
