“If they can use anything after I’m gone,” he said quietly, “I want to be a donor.”
I turned toward him sharply.
“Please don’t talk about dying while she’s kicking.”
“That’s exactly why I have to talk about it.”
“Mark.”
His thumb moved slowly across my stomach.
“If I’m not going to get the time I wanted with her, maybe someone else can get more time with their family.”
I looked away.
“Don’t make this sound beautiful.”
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He said nothing.
“I’m already angry enough,” I whispered.
His eyes found mine.
“I’m scared too, Sal.”
That nearly broke me.
Mark had always been the one who made impossible things sound manageable.
There was always a joke. A plan. A hand on my back.
