“That’s amazing,” he breathes. She grins at him. “That’s our baby.” Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. Our baby. No, it’s not our baby. This fetus inside her is my baby. Mine and Sam’s. Even if she’s using a general “our” to include me too, it’s still inaccurate. This is not her baby. We have a contract. What the hell is wrong with her?
