“I’m a terrible person,” I wailed. “A horrible mother. They shouldn’t even let me be a parent.” “Bullshit.” “It’s true. I drank coffee. I even had a glass of wine last weekend!” “And the pediatrician said your baby was a little early, but fine.” Mal rocked said baby over by the window. He gave David a tired smile. “Hey, man. Want to meet your son?” “My son.” David shook his head. “Fuck. This is…” “Wonderful,” finished Jimmy Ferris, taking a peek at the little burrito sitting in Mal’s arms. His smile was wide. “Absolutely fucking wonderful. Congratulations.”
