“Have you got baby stuff yet?” Adam said when they walked into the store, and Olivia headed straight for the pickles. Ugh, finally.
“No, and yes, my dad’s hinting at getting my old crib out, which is in the attic, but I want the baby to have a new one because mine’s obviously old, and I think a rat family is nesting it. I don’t want to get anything; it’s bad luck, you know? No one was ever supposed to find out, and then everyone did on my third week. That’s called unlucky.” Olivia muttered, putting three jars of pickled eggs into the basket.
“I think that’s enough. You’re going to reek.”
“I know.”
“You could still buy stuff, little things, bottles, nappies, and that stuff.”
“It’s still too early. Let me see my baby, see it’s okay, and then I’ll start thinking ahead. I don’t even know
