June
Of course, this is the moment I decide to study my hands like they're fascinating artifacts. Before I managed to fall asleep last night, I'd convinced myself that my baby request was the most mortifying thing I'd ever said out loud. My brilliant plan? Pretend it never happened. Act like I hadn't basically begged my fake husband to knock me up.
But here he is. Agreeing.
"We could go to the hospital," I hear myself saying, because apparently my mouth has decided to keep talking without consulting my brain. "Have you donate. Work it out through the proper channels."
My voice sounds steady. Professional, even. Like we're discussing grocery lists instead of... this.
"That's a long process," Caleb says quietly. "Lots of appointments. Testing. Waiting."
"Right." I nod like I know what
