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“Well, you’re pregnant too, right?”

That detail takes me by surprise. I wasn’t aware my pregnancy was common knowledge.

“Uh…”

“Am I right?”

“Well, yes. But how did you…”

“Don’t be mad, but I saw you leaving Dr. Monogan’s office last week and then when I heard about the wedding, I sort of put two and two together.”

Shit. I didn’t realize that my whereabouts were being accounted for already, but it’s not like I’m going to be able to hide my pregnancy for much longer. In fact, this morning, I noticed the waistband of my scrubs growing tighter when I slipped my pants on. There may not be a pronounced bump yet, but my body has definitely changed.

My boobs especially.

Sighing, I nod. “Yes, I’m pregnant too.”

She squeezes my hand in her own. “How far along?”

“About eleven weeks.”

“Nausea? Exhaustion?”

“Yup.”

Patty blows out a breath. “I wish I could tell you that it gets better, but you know that’s not my style.”

A snort escapes me. “Trust me, I’m aware.”

“Pregnancy is just as unholy as perimenopause, Lennon.” She leans closer, ticking each offense off on her fingers. “First, a tiny human takes over your body from the inside, doing whatever the hell it wants. Then you have to force that invader out through a hole nothing that size should ever come out of.” Her fingers curl into a fist. “And after all that, they give you this squirming, crying poop machine that you have to keep alive!”

I press my lips together to hold back my laughter.

Her eyes narrow. “Not sure what God was thinking when he gave us all the joys of motherhood.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a lot to think about.” So much so that I’ve sort of been living in denial about it and trying to just focus on school.

But the one instance I can’t forget, despite the effort, is the way Easton reacted at my first doctor’s appointment last week.

First, he was there, completely dialed in, and playing his part of the baby’s dad flawlessly. But it was the way he slipped into the role in front of the nurse and doctor so effortlessly that made me feel guilty—and sad.

He took pride in seeing the baby on the screen. He gasped just as loudly as I did when we heard the heartbeat for the first time.

And when I told him I wanted Melvin’s because the brisket is the only thing I can stomach lately, he said our baby had great taste.

Not my baby.

Our baby.

Hearing him say those two words brought up the anger I’d been pushing down about Adam and his cowardly reaction to the knowledge that he was going to have a kid.

It only fueled the thought I can’t shake—how can two men react so differently to the same situation?

One wanting to avoid any responsibility for his actions, and the other signing up for a mountain of responsibility without a second thought?

Easton hasn’t wavered in his decision at all. In fact, he’s making it seem like he’s happier than a pig in mud about our marriage.

Or, if he is experiencing any doubt, he sure as hell has perfected the art of hiding it.