One hundred and seven
Be still, dear heart but it clenches painfully I lose my breath. He hates me. He hates us.
Too weak to walk to the light switch, I welcome the brightness pouring down on me as I shift into a sleeping position. It takes him less than a minute to spoon me, I stiffen in his arms until he cups my breast and I relax. I hate how he uses my body against me. He can sleep facing the other side of the wall for all I care. Maybe not. I love his arm around me.
"Did she really kick?" he whispers into my ear and I let his question float in the air until he coughs. His hand lowers to my stomach, a finger pokes my belly button, I giggle.
"No," I say. I am grateful he doesn’t stop his movements on my stomach. And my breath hitches as my feelings crash over me. "But she doesn’t like it when you are mad at me."