“Pregnant.” How I got the word out, I would never know, but I said it, and I managed to keep my tone level in the process. “You’re pregnant.” Trembling, she kept her hand pressed to her forehead like a shield and nodded weakly. “Pregnant.” A pained sob escaped her. “Yes.” “You’re pregnant.” “Yes.” “You’re saying you’re pregnant,” I heard myself repeat like an idiot, as my heart jackknifed in my chest. “Pregnant with a baby, pregnant.” “Yes, Joey, I’m saying I’m pregnant with a baby,” she snapped, and then choked out another sob. “So just stop saying the word ‘pregnant.’ Jesus!”
