He was in the kitchen looking at his phone, but he glanced up when I came in. Right away he noticed something was wrong. “What?” he asked, his dark eyes concerned. “It didn’t work,” I said, my throat constricting. “I’m not pregnant.” Immediately he set his phone aside and wrapped me in his arms. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” “I’m okay.” His warm, solid chest was a comfort. “This month was a long shot anyway.” “I’m going to refrain from making jokes about my awesome long shot.” I laughed in spite of the desperate urge to cry.
