"It counts." Amos dips a spring roll in sauce. "Cravings can manifest retrospectively. The body anticipates nutritional needs before conscious awareness catches up."
"That's not how cravings work." Dominic opens another container.
"The literature supports it."
"The literature supports whatever you want it to support." Dominic hands me the container of rice. "Eat more rice. The baby needs carbs."
"The baby is the size of a kidney bean and doesn't need anything except for its three parents to stop arguing about pad thai." I take the rice anyway. Arguing with Dominic about nutrition has become a battle I don't have the energy to fight.
After dinner Dominic clears the containers and disappears into the kitchen. Water runs in the kitchen while cabinets open and close behind him.
Amos' eyes are closing. The Percocet he took an hour ago is pulling him toward sleep. His hand is still in mine, his fingers going slack.
"Niah." His voice is blurred with the medication.
"I'm here."
"You're going to be a really good parent." He says it with his eyes closed and his thumb tracing a circle against my palm.
"How do you know that?" I press my face against his chest. My only model for parenting is a woman who sold me to Alphas for profit.
"That's exactly how I know." His thumb keeps tracing. "Because you know what not to do. You know every mistake she made and you'll spend the rest of your life making sure your child never feels any of it."
"Our child." I correct him. "Our child, Amos."
"Our child." His eyes open enough to find mine. "Come here."
I climb onto the couch beside him on the right side, careful of the left where the broken ribs are wrapped beneath his shirt. His arm comes around my shoulders and I settle against his chest with my ear over his heartbeat.
"I love you." The words come out against his chest, muffled by his shirt.
Amos goes still beneath me, his steady pulse stuttering for two beats before settling back.
"I know I said it before, but I wasn’t… all here." I press my palm flat against his chest. "This is the version where I looked at everything you've done and everything you've failed at. I chose you anyway."
"Niah..." His arm tightens around my shoulders.
"I was scared that saying it made it real. Real things get taken away. My mother took my childhood and my trust and my ability to recognize when someone loved me. I was terrified that if I said it with my whole chest, someone would come along and rip it out."
"No one is going to rip it out." His voice is rough. "Not while I'm breathing."
"You almost weren't breathing." I lift my head to look at him. "You stepped in front of Richard's fists to protect me and the baby. I sat in that hospital room and realized I'd rather say it and lose you than never say it at all."
His eyes are wet behind his glasses. His hand comes up and cups my face.
"I love you, Amos." I say it aimed at his face this time. "I love your spreadsheets and your folic acid updates. I love that you took a beating for me and then told Dominic to call the lawyer."
"Noted." His voice cracks on the word. "I love you too, Niah. That hasn't changed since the garden."
I catch movement in the doorway. Dominic is leaning against the frame with a dish towel in his hand. He's been standing there long enough.
I look at him across the room.
"I love both of you. I think I have since the garden, but nobody ever taught me the word for this." Dominic's hand tightens on the dish towel. "But you're still going to have to make up for using me for the rest of your lives, probably."
Dominic crosses the room and kneels beside the couch. He sets the dish towel on the carpet and his hand finds the back of my neck. His forehead presses against mine and I can feel his breath on my mouth.
"I can live with that." He says it against my mouth.
