Page 213 of Diego

“No, I'm not. Never have been.”

Leonardo abandons his toy and makes his way over to me, stopping between my knees and lifting both arms.

I glance at Victoria. “Is he asking me to pick him up?”

“He is.”

I lean forward and lift him onto the sofa beside me, but he immediately climbs across my leg and settles against my side instead. I adjust the blanket so he does not get tangled in it, and he reaches for one of the crackers on my plate as if that was the entire reason he came over.

“That one was mine,” I tell him.

He eats it anyway.

Julia laughs. “Nothing is only yours anymore. You'll have to get used to that.”

“It feels like theft,” I joke.

“Parenthood involves a lot of theft.”

Victoria laughs. “Food, sleep, personal space.”

“Privacy,” Julia adds.

I look down at Leonardo, who has now found the edge of my sleeve fascinating.

“Wonderful.”

He pats my arm.

I do not know why that gets to me.

Maybe because it is so ordinary.

There is no big moment attached to it. He is not doing anything except sitting next to me, sticky fingers thankfully cleaned, one small hand resting against my sleeve while the women around me keep talking.

I imagine another child here.

Ours.

The thought does not scare me.

That might be the strangest part.

A month ago, I could barely think about the pregnancy without getting stuck on logistics. Work. Housing. Diego. Security. How any of this was supposed to fit into the life I already had.

Now I am sitting in the house he bought, watching his family occupy it as if they have always belonged here, and I can picture the baby fitting into this space without effort.

It doesn't really answer any questions. It does not tell me what happens when Dr. Mehta clears me, or whether I go back to my apartment, or what Diego expects, or what I want him to expect.

It only tells me that when I picture the baby now, I keep picturing here.

The realization is uncomfortable enough that I reach for my water.

Julia’s phone buzzes.

All three of us look at it.

She checks the screen and smiles. “Still waiting.”