“I don’t need a screaming child,” I tell her. “I don’t even need a well-behaved child. I just need you.” She stalls out. Her hands plant on her hips, and her head tilts. “What?” I shrug. “I don’t give a shit about babies. I want you. I need you. Haven’t I said that enough? That it’s you and me, forever? If you don’t want to get pregnant, that’s fine. If the IUD hurts, you should get it out. And because it freaks you out that much, I’ll take responsibility for it and get snipped.”
