And then he suddenly says, “I want a girl.” His smile vanishes with his words. I want it to return. “Why?” I whisper. I think I know. “I don’t want our kid to turn out like me,” he says, the angles of his face more tortured looking than before. “Spiteful and bitter—a complete fucking asshole.” He shakes his head, his gaze dropping. “I want him to be like you.”
