“How’ve you been, other than that?” “Good.” He searches my face. “Good,” he echoes. “Would you prefer I say bad?” I laugh. “Sort of,” he admits. “I want you to say you’ve been as miserable as I am.” He bites his lip, visibly unhappy. “But it seems like you’re doing really, really well. There’s something different about you.” “Different how?” “I don’t know. You’re kind of…glowing. Are you pregnant?”
