“Congratulations,” I said evenly. “When was the last time we slept together?”
Emily’s smile stiffened.
A moment earlier, the dining room in my mother’s house had been full of noise—glasses clinking, my sister laughing a little too loudly, my stepfather carving roast chicken like it was a holiday instead of an ordinary Sunday in late May. Emily had just stood, one hand resting on her stomach, her voice soft and glowing.
“We’re having a baby.”
That was when I raised my glass, met her eyes, and said it.
Now everything had gone still.
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