Something that might become a baby.
Something that might become Amai Landry’s child.
Something that might become my way out of Mama’s house, out of debt, out of the life I’d been drowning in since Phillip left.
Or it might become nothing.
It might fail.
Just like the last time.
My chest tightened.
What if it doesn’t work?
What if my body fails again?
What if?—
The door opened.
I turned my head.
Amai stood in the doorway.
He wasn’t supposed to be back here.
This was the recovery area. Staff only. Patients only.
But there he was.
Tall. Composed. Dressed in a dark suit that clung to his body just right. His eyes found mine immediately.
“You’re not supposed to be back here,” I said.
He stepped inside.
Closed the door behind him.
“I know.”
He pulled the chair from the corner of the room and sat down next to the exam table.
Didn’t say anything.
Just sat.
I stared at him.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
He looked at me for a long moment.
And then he said, very quietly:
“Because it’s my child too.”
The air left my lungs.
