"Mel."
"OH MY GOD."
"What."
"Keer. Keer. It's the hormones. The baby hormones. It's STARTED. I'm already—"
"Mel. We just had sex. It wouldn't be that quick."
"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT."
"Mel."
"—the body knows, Keer, the body KNOWS—"
"Mel."
"—I'm nesting, I'm going to start nesting, I'm going to want pickles, oh my GOD I'm going to want pickles—"
"Mel."
"WHAT."
"You're crying because you mean it. Not hormones."
She stops.
Stares at me.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Oh. That's—oh."
A long beat. Her hand comes up. Wipes her face. Comes away wet.
"That's worse, actually."
"Worse?"
"Worse than hormones. Hormones are explainable. Meaning it is—" She sniffs.
"I would like a baby." Quiet. Into my skin. Her face going into my throat. "If there's one. I would like that."
"Yeah."
A beat. Then her head lifts. "Wait. Do you? I just—I just decided that out loud for both of us. Sorry. Do you want a baby, Keer?"
Her eyes on mine.
"Yes."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, Mel."
She settles back into me. Heavy. Quiet.
