My chest tightens.
“Yes,” I answer.
Her voice shakes, just a little.
“I can’t.”
I keep my expression and tone neutral.
“Can’t what?”
She gestures at the table with a helpless little motion.
“This,” she says. “Any of it.”
I tilt my head.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t eat any of this. Literally any of it.”
“Why?”
She stares at me for a moment, and then her eyes widen, like she just figured something out.
They narrow on me.
“I can’t eat any of it.Literally,” she says.
“I’m not sure what you mean, sweetheart,” I say.
She pushes away from the table and stands.
“No,” she says, her finger pointing at me. “Oh no, you don’t.”
I smile, just a little. It’s my fault, I know. I wanted to see how long she would hold on.
“You,” she says again. “You did this on purpose.”
“I’m not sure what you’re accusing me of,” I say, still trying to keep a straight face.
“Everything here is… off limits,” she says, looking around at the spread. She meets my gaze again.
"Off limits to whom?“ I say, finally letting my smile show.
She stares at me. Then she points at her own belly.
“Off limits to the person who’s growing a tiny, defenseless human who should not be served raw meat, unpasteurized cheese, raw eggs, or wine.” Her breath hitches, tears welling. “You knew.”
She puts her hands over her face, and my heart hurts. I need to fix this.
I’m up, my chair scraping back.
I pull her into my arms, her head buried against my shoulder.
“Hey,” I murmur into her hair. “Hey. Look at me.”
She lifts her head, her eyes wet. “You’re so mean.”
