My shoulders lift in a shrug. “I have sympathy hormones—I’m not thinking clearly either.”

“Are you gonna start eating for two, too?” She’s creating the perfect bite with her fork, stabbing a piece each of chicken, asparagus, and potato onto her fork all at once and eating it slowly, eyes sliding closed with a moan. “Mmm—so. Good.”

I watch her eat half the food on her plate before digging into mine, the sounds she’s emitting and the faces she’s creating making it hard to concentrate. Her smile, her rolling eyes, the licking of those pink lips—I doubt she realizes she’s doing any of these things, so blissfully unaware is she, so fixated on her dinner.

It’s fascinating. Is this what all pregnant women are like, or just True?

Or is this how she eats a meal in general? There’s no way of knowing until I’ve spent more time with her, which I totally plan to do.

She catches me watching. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t been able to keep food down without gagging. Thank the lord it’s gotten better.” She dabs at her mouth with her napkin. “I’ve actually lost a few pounds instead of gaining for all the puking I’ve done.”

That fills me with some guilt.

Had I known, I would have been there for her to at least rub her back or hold her hair while she was hunched over the toilet.

“Don’t apologize—keep eating. I’m enjoying watching you.”

Her groan is audible. “That’s your polite way of saying I’m making a spectacle of myself.” She sets down her fork. “Which makes me a hypocrite because do you know how many times I’ve threatened to murder members of my family for loud chewing? Infinite times.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—my father slurps his cereal. Tripp moans when he eats soup, I’m not sure why. Buzz will sit and go, ‘This is so good,’ the entire time he’s eating something delicious. It’s enough to make a person insane. And here I am, doing the same thing. Try to deny it—I’m making noises, aren’t I?”

Yup, she sure is. “It’s cute.”

She skewers me with her gaze. “Cute? My bad manners are cute?”

“Yup.”

“Ugh!”

The self-loathing radiating from her body has me laughing despite myself, despite knowing it’s going to get me into trouble.

Damn if she isn’t adorable though, huffing and puffing and pouting because she’s freaking loud when she eats.

“Promise me you won’t let me eat like a pig when I’m further along.”

I shake my head. No bueno.

“Mateo!”

“What? Stop getting worked up about it. Finish your dinner.”

Begrudgingly, she picks up her fork again, slowly loading up the tines of her fork, slowly lifting it to her mouth in an attempt to be dainty and serene.

She fails miserably.

“Stop looking at me.”

“I’m not looking at you.”

“Yes you are.”

So argumentative.

“What are we, five-year-olds in the back of Mom’s station wagon? Are you going to tattle on me next?”

True pauses with the fork halfway to her mouth. “Oh god, what if our child is a tattletale?”

“It won’t be—we won’t let it. We won’t even put Band-Aids on our kid when he or she gets a cut. We’ll just rub dirt on it.”

We laugh at that.

“Our baby is going to be the cutest,” I lament. “Bet it has tons of hair.”

Dark hair, dark eyes, like Mom and Dad.

True looks down into her plate, suddenly shy. “It’s so strange to think we’re going to be parents. I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around it.” She looks up. “I took at least twelve pregnancy tests, you know—I should have ordered them in bulk or bought stock in the testing company.”

“Were you scared or just shocked?”

“Mostly shocked. I never thought I would just have a child—I think I’ve always known I was going to have one, but more in my thirties? I have nothing right now, not even a place to live. I’m squatting in my brother’s guest bedroom and barely had anything to bring along.”

“In your defense, it wasn’t very long ago that you graduated from college.”

“Um, but you’re not that much older than I am and you have a condo and a car and a career, and I’m stuck in this in-between and throwing a baby into the mix now. I suck.”

“Aren’t your friends having babies?” Mine are.

“Yes. Most of them are engaged or married.”

True looks forlorn.

I attribute this mood swing to the hormones and not anything I’ve said or done in the past ten minutes to cause the switch.

This is normal, Mateo.

I googled a few of the symptoms since finding out I’m going to be a dad so I know what to watch for, and so far, True has displayed a few of them:

Mood swings (not hot)

Emotional (not hot)

Appetite (hot)

Loss of appetite (not hot)

Pregnancy brain (kind of cute)

Increased sex drive (hot!!)

That’s the one I keep hoping will rear its head in my favor, totally willing to take one for the team and bang one out for the sake of the baby.