The waiting room smelled of lemon disinfectant and lukewarm optimism. Grace fidgeted with the strap of her handbag ad she sat alongside Jullian waiting to be called.
Lloyd sat quietly while Meghan flipped through a parenting magazine with forced interest, eyes skimming over an article titled “How to Survive Twins Without Losing Your Mind.” She snorted and put it down.
“I swear that magazine is stalking me,” she muttered.
Grace gave her a wry look. “We don’t even know if you’re carrying twins again.”
“Grace. Look at my history. The odds are basically conspiring against me.”
Before Grace could reply, the receptionist called out, “Grace Hemmingway?”
Jullian shot to his feet like he was on fire. “That’s us.”
“That’s me,” Grace corrected as she stood, gently patting his chest. “You, my
