"This is crazy," I say.
The words come out rough. Broken.
And then?—
I laugh.
The sound surprises me. It bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest, somewhere I thought had died two years ago in that church. It's not a bitter laugh. Not a cruel one. It's genuine. Shocked. Almost hysterical.
"This is absolutely fucking crazy."
Antonella's face changes.
Pure, overwhelming relief.
She exhales.
A shaky, trembling breath that seems to empty her entire body.
"You're laughing," she says.
"I'm laughing."
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because—" I shake my head. Run a hand over my face. "Because the universe has a sick sense of humor. Because some months ago I was lying in a hospital bed praying to die, and now?—"
I stop.
Look at her.
"Now I'm going to be a father," I finish.
The word feels foreign on my tongue.
Father.
Me.
"You're not angry?"
Her voice is small. Uncertain.
I frown.
"Why would I be angry?"
"I don't know." She looks down at the tests in her hand. "I thought—I was scared you might?—"
She stops.
Bites her lip.
That fucking lip.
"Scared I might what?"
"See it as a trap." The words come out in a rush. "Or a burden. Or something you didn't want. I thought you might push me away again. I thought?—"
