I had a theory about second pregnancies. The theory was that they should be easier than the first because you already knew what was coming, and that theory turned out to be completely wrong.
I knew what was coming. That was precisely why I was more alert to every small thing. The tiredness that arrived in the afternoons like a scheduled appointment. The specific food aversions that were different from Ava's pregnancy, more aggressive and less logical. I had stopped being able to tolerate the smell of the good coffee from the bakery on West 74th, which was a genuine loss.
Marcus noticed the coffee thing first. He switched to making it at home with a brand I could tolerate, without being asked and without commenting on it, which was both considerate and slightly unnerving because the old M
