Dragging in a shuddering breath, I reach out and touch his cheek, my palm sliding along his jaw. I don't know what to say. I don't really have it in me to be optimistic. I could have, a year ago, but now... Now I've got bitter realism and not much else.

"You're gonna be a dad," I whisper, almost to myself, like I'm just now figuring it out, and maybe that's the wrong fucking thing to say, but no matter what kind of place that is, the idea of it seems kind of miraculous. More than that, it seems right. The way things should be.