“I don’t know.” I pushed back from him, feeling like I wanted to crawl right out of my skin. “Shouldn’t I feel more loving toward it?” I begged him to understand. “I mean, you see mothers cradling their bellies, talking and singing to their unborn child, but I feel detached. It’s just a foreign thing inside me.”
“Hey,” he shook off his own hurt and became strong for me once again, “no one can blame you. You hoped for years you’d have a child with Francesco, and now you’ve had to have one with someone you don’t even like. I get it that you can’t feel the same way about it. I’m sure once you hold that baby, you’ll feel the love.”
“Yeah.” I reached down and rubbed my stomach, hoping he was right, but I knew I certainly lacked that glow other mothers had.
“Okay,” he suddenly stood and wiped
