Fallon
I lay back on the velvet comforter, the curtains drawn tight, the late-morning light filtered in gold through the high arched windows. The baby shifted low in my belly—just enough to remind me he was there, watching everything from the inside.
I didn’t care.
I’d waited days, hoping they would change their minds before buying it, waiting while my body begged, ached, screamed in silence for something neither of them would give me.
They kept saying no.
Too risky, you need rest, what if we hurt you? Are you trying to give the baby a golf ball-shaped head?
And I was done asking so they won’t give me what I want. I will find it another way.
I peel back the paper. The toy inside is sleek and soft, charged and ready, thank god. My thighs clench in anticipation as I slide out of my ro
