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I look toward her belly. “Or starting something.”

She shakes her head. “Or ending something.”

My gut clenches. “Oh.”

“I need to think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll be there with you. I’ll hold your hand if you decide you’re not ready to be a mother. Or I’ll hold your hand in labor and delivery. Whatever you want, I’m with you one hundred percent.”

“I’m sorry I was mean to you the other day. My period was late and I was afraid, and my temper got the best of me.”

I go to the freezer, take out a quart of ice cream, and get two spoons. I hold one out to her and we sit together silently and eat the whole thing.

“I really like Ryan,” I suddenly blurt out.

She smiles. “You took your gloves off for him. I’d say you more than like him.”

Yeah. I do. I more than like him.

And it scares the hell out of me.

Ryan

It has been days since the last time I saw Lark. She has an appointment today at two o’clock so I can finish her tattoo. We’ve texted all day every day, silently getting to know one another, and it has been great, but it’s not the same as actually getting to see her.

On Monday, she sent me a picture of her wearing my baseball cap in front of a doctor’s office.

Me: You’re not sick, are you?

Lark McCapSnatcher: I’m entertaining your cap at the gynecologist’s office.

Me: At the what?

Lark McCapSnatcher: Finny calls it the coochie doctor.

Me (grinning like a fool): You took my cap to the coochie doctor?

Lark McCapSnatcher: Why, yes, I did.

Me: Wait. Are you wearing a paper gown? Open at the front? With your feet in these horse things?

Lark McCapSnatcher: I think they’re called stirrups.

Me: Horse things. And answer the question.

Lark McCapSnatcher: Stirrups. And no, I am not wearing a paper gown.

Me: Then what are you wearing?

Lark McCapSnatcher: Your cap.

Me (gulp): That’s all?

Lark McCapSnatcher: Quit being a perv. I’m wearing clothes.

Me: Damn. There goes my fantasy. Why are you at the doctor?

Lark McCapSnatcher: I’m here with Wren.

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