Page 188 of My Undead Love Life

A year ago, none of this would have felt possible. The ease of all of us tangled together without anyone questioning where they belonged.

Keith shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. “We need to talk about something.”

Luck’s head dropped back to the pillow. “That tone is never good.”

Mad’s amusement disappeared. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“That makes it worse,” Oxi murmured.

Keith looked between the three of them with a seriousness that immediately made me suspicious. “The pull-out method,” he said flatly, “is not a reliable system.”

I buried my face in his shoulder. “Oh my God.”

Luck blinked. “We’re doing this again?”

“We never finished doing it the first time.”

“It was over a year ago,” Oxi protested.

Keith pointed at him. “Time does not make it less irresponsible.”

“We were doing fine.”

“You were playing reproductive roulette.”

Mad snorted. “He’s not wrong.”

Luck pushed himself upright. “You did it first.”

Mad’s expression flattened. “That doesn’t make it smart.”

“It makes you a hypocrite.”

“It makes me experienced enough to know it was stupid.”

Keith nodded. “Thank you.”

Mad frowned. “Don’t thank me like we’re co-parenting them.”

“We kind of are,” Keith said.

Oxi slowly turned toward him. “Excuse me?”

Keith kept going as if Oxi hadn’t interrupted him. “We live in a world where medical care is limited, resources are limited, and childbirth is significantly more dangerous.”

The humor eased from the room.

He looked at me, and his voice softened. “And you didn’t want children.”

“I don’t,” I agreed. “That’s why I took the sterility shot Sofia gave me. She checked a few months ago when we visited her, and it really did work. This is a non-issue now.”

I loved children, but I didn’t want to bring another life into this world. Not when every fever could become fatal and a pregnancy could put me at immediate risk. The end of the world was no world for an innocent life.

Keith’s thumb moved over my shoulder. “I know.”

“We’re covered now,” Luck said, less playful than before. “It happened that one time and never again.”