London“I’m engulfed in darkness, suffocating from its weight, and the worst part is, I can’t seem to care.”
—London Berkeley
I sit in the shower, head bent, the hot spray pelting my back, as I cry. My tears are masked by the streams of water rolling over my skin—not that it matters. Loïc’s not going to pop in for a wet rendezvous. That’s not how it works anymore. s*x is planned and takes place in the bed at the optimal time and position for conception.
God, how things have changed since we started trying in Savannah last May. That was eight months ago, but it might as well be a lifetime. I’m not the same person I was then. Somewhere between periods that insist on arriving and the babies that never do, I’ve lost myself. Amid the tracking, the pills, the shots, and the appointments with d
