Sutton woke to the soft buzz of her phone against her nightstand. “Oof,” she mumbled, pressing her palm against the spot where the baby had kicked. “Take it easy in there, would you? Mama’s ribs aren’t punching bags.”
She squinted at her phone screen through bleary eyes. 6:30 AM. A text from Luca.
Luca: Good morning. About the appointment this afternoon, we can go together from the office.
She groaned, flopping her head back against the pillow. The doctor’s appointment. Today she’d officially hit the seven-month mark, and her body hadn’t let her forget it. Her back ached constantly. Her ankles disappeared by mid-afternoon. And sleep? That was becoming a distant memory, thanks to a baby who thought nighttime was the perfect opportunity for gymnastics practice.
Sutton typed a quick reply
