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We need to talk. We’re not – don’t do this, Jack.”

“Seems to me that you’re doing it, too, sweetheart.”

“I’m trying not to. I don’t want to,” she said while he stroked his hands down her back and kept up a constant rain of those sweet, hungry kisses.

“Why?”

“Because this isn’t enough,” she said. “This doesn’t make up – it can’t make up – for the places that are all wrong.”

“It can. We have to work on it, not let it go. When it’s this strong, Carmen, you just have to take it on faith and –”

“No. No. Stop.” Shakily, she pushed him away and walked out of the house towards his car, parked in the street.

“You still want to eat?” He followed her, sounding angry and at sea.

“I’m hungry,” she snapped at him, because it was either I’m hungry or I’m pregnant, and she didn’t want to give him her news that way.

A Mother in the Making

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