Page 232 of The Encore’s Crown

“It was weird this month,” she says against my chest.

“What was weird?”

“I don’t know. My boobs hurt, and I felt kind of sick a few mornings. There’s usually at least something. Spotting or whatever. But this month there was nothing.”

“Can the implant fail?”

“Seriously?” She pulls back enough to look at me. “Everything in life, can fail.”

My gaze travels toward the ceiling.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

I’ve spent most of my life believing the worst thing I could ever become was a father. I know how damage passes down. How anger can live in your body even when you swear you’ll never become the person who put it there. My father is dead, and I still don’t trust that he isn’t waiting somewhere inside me. But Natalia is trembling in my arms, so none of that matters right now. I press my mouth to her hair and hold her.

“We don’t know anything except that test says positive,” I tell her. “Don't you still need to go to a doctor to confirm all that? Just breathe.”

“What if it’s right?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Her fingers clutch the front of my shirt. I rub my hand over her back until her breathing begins to slow. Then I let a small smile pull at my mouth.

“I mean, we might have pushed the implant beyond the limits of its engineering.”

She jerks away from me.

“Shut up, Kiri.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. That thing has been under historic pressure.”

She smacks my chest.

“All right. No more jokes.”

She settles against me again, muttering something about murdering me before the baby is born. Then she suddenly goes rigid.

“What?”

Natalia tears herself out of my arms and crawls toward the small trash can beneath the sink.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She starts throwing tissues, cotton pads, and pieces of packaging onto the floor.

“I need the wrapper.”

“For what?”

“The expiration date.”

She digs deeper.