Page 135 of Diego

My hand drifts to my stomach.

There is nothing to feel.

Nothing different beneath my palm. No bump. No movement. No outward sign that anything about me has changed.

But something has.

Until today, the pregnancy was mostly information.

Two lines on a test. A blood test by a doctor.

A conversation with Diego.

Just words. Just facts.

Something I could think about when I chose to and shove aside when I needed to work.

Today was different.

I got nauseous because I am pregnant. I got dizzy because I am pregnant.

I know it.

There is something happening inside me whether I am thinking about it or not, and it's something I have to get used to.

The realization is strange and unsettling.

I look down at my hand, still sitting on my stomach.

My baby.

The words still feel unreal.

But a lot more real than they did yesterday.

I pick up my briefcase from beside the entry table and straighten my shoulders.

I have another showing in an hour.

And apparently, I need to manage lunch, no matter what.

By the time I get home, I am done pretending I have any interest in being productive.

I kick off my shoes inside the door, order pizza because it is the only thing that sounds even remotely edible, and hop into the shower so I can be in an old T-shirt and sweats by the time it gets here. I know tomato sauce and grease may be a terrible idea after the day my stomach has had. I know there are probably several more sensible options.

I do not care.

The pizza arrives twenty-five minutes later, and I carry the box straight to the couch with a bottle of water tucked under my arm.

My apartment is small, especially compared to the properties I spend most of my days walking through, but I like it. Two bedrooms, technically, although the second is barely large enough to deserve the title. I turned it into an office almost immediately, with a narrow desk beneath the window, shelving along one wall, and enough room for a filing cabinet and one chair.

The rest of the apartment makes better use of the square footage.

The living room opens directly into the kitchen, separated by a short peninsula with enough counter space for two stools. The cabinets are dark wood, the counters are stone, and the appliances are better than they have any right to be at this price point. There is a small dining area near the windows that I mostly use when I have someone over, which is not often enough to justify the amount of time I spent choosing the table.

The bedroom is not large either, but it fits a queen bed, two narrow nightstands, and a dresser without forcing me to turn sideways to walk around them. The bathroom was updated before I bought the place, and whoever chose the tile had good taste.

I got lucky with the whole thing.