Dominic's POV
She falls asleep on the couch at eight thirty with a book open on her chest.
Not unusual. The first trimester fatigue hits her in waves and she fights it every time, keeps reading or talking or pretending she's fine, and then she's simply gone, out mid-sentence sometimes, and I've learned not to comment on it because she finds it embarrassing and there's nothing embarrassing about it.
I take the book. Mark the page. She doesn't stir.
I sit in the chair across from her and open my laptop and work, and every few minutes I look up.
I can't explain it. I've tried.
She sleeps like she does everything else, with her whole self committed to it. One hand curled under her chin. The other rested on the cushion beside her. Her hair across her face and she won't like that when she
