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“Not unless you have something you need to tell me about that.”

I cut him a look over the towel. “No. I'm not pregnant.”

His expression does something strange.

Very briefly, but I catch it.

“Why did you look disappointed?”

“Can we stay on topic?” He pushes away from the doorframe.

“Okay. What topic?”

“Veronica.”

There goes my smile. “Oh.”

“She sent me the information for her next doctor's appointment.”

“Okay.” I squeeze toothpaste onto my brush. “When?”

“Next week.”

I start brushing.

He pauses.

I look at him through the mirror. “What?”

“It's the anatomy scan.”

My hand stops.

I pull the toothbrush out of my mouth. “Already?”

“Yeah.”

I stare at him. “She's twenty weeks already?”

“Apparently.”

“Fuck.” I spit into the sink. “It's flying by.”

Simon doesn't say anything.

Neither do I.

She's halfway through her pregnancy.

How the fuck did that happen?

It feels like Simon told me yesterday.

It feels like five minutes ago I was trying to understand the sentence Veronica is pregnant and it might be mine.

Twenty weeks means only another twenty, give or take.

In less than five months, there could be another child.