Twelve weeks later
Bobbie and Olivier sat quietly in the living room staring at the black and white photos in their hands.
“This isn’t happening,” she whispered to nobody in particular. She heard Riggs, who had driven them to the ultrasound appointment puttering in the kitchen making tea and commenting how weird his friends were behaving. She ignored him.
The creak of the front door opening and Everly’s voice calling her name made her look up from the photo and over her shoulder. Everly’s little belly protruding under her flowy shirt. Aside from some spotting she’d had at the eleven-week mark, which had sent her panicking, the rest of her pregnancy had gone according to plan, and she was doing great.
She looked at Bobbie as she sat in a chair across from the sofa. “You two are strange
