“No,” she said huskily. “It happened at his place.” He had a place called his place and it happened there and it was sex. This was both more and less than I wanted to know. “It’s a nightmare,” she said, holding her stomach. “Is it?” I was desperate to know more. She lurched back to bed. “Is it?” I cried again, but she was done, already half-asleep. It could only be a nightmare, someone growing inside you who you hoped never to see the face of.
