He takes a finger and places it over the bump. “Boyfriend,” he spells out loud and with his finger, he finishes the word by drawing an arrow pointing at himself. “Girlfriend.” He draws an arrow pointing towards my heart. “Rump roast.” He draws an arrow pointing towards the baby. I laugh. “You’re always drawing arrows.” “Yeah. I’ve never been very stealthy about how I feel about you, I don’t think.”
