When he didn’t say anything, I kept explaining, overcome by nerves regarding his reaction once he did speak.
“I can’t sort it out on my own. I need your input. I trust you. Because I know you want what’s best for us and our embryo.”
“Baby.”
My head tilted. “Baby?”
“Baby. It has arms and fingers and toes now.”
“See?” I said with an exasperated wave of my hand in his direction. “It’s things like this. You remembered what I said weeks ago about the baby not being a baby until it had arms and legs. You remember everything. You are thoughtful and giving. Every word, every detail has meaning. The dinner you made for me. The care you give. It attracts me beyond strictly chemicals.”
“Then who’s to say a relationship wouldn’t work?”
A hot flush bloomed up my neck, to my cheeks. “Who’s to say
