She didn’t shout or berate me. She didn’t slap my face and run away, either. Instead, she stood there, eyes locked on mine, as she absorbed my painful truth. “Right now,” she finally said. “What are your thoughts right now?” “My thoughts?” “Your thoughts.” “You,” I admitted. “You and the baby.” Shivering, she nodded and tightened her arms around my neck. “And your head? Where’s your head at, Joe?” “Same place as it’s always been,” I replied. “With you.” “I believe in you.” The words hurt to hear and I flinched. “Molloy.” “I. Believe. In. You,” she repeated slowly. “I’m not expecting perfection
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