He answered on the second ring, cheerful, asking if everything was okay with the pregnancy.
I said I needed to tell him something, and that he needed to sit down first.
Penelope had made soup.
That was the first thing I noticed when I walked in — the smell of it, warm and familiar, the kind she used to make when we were younger and one of us was having a hard week.
She was standing at the stove stirring it when I came through the door, and she turned and smiled at me the way she always did, and for one second I almost couldn’t do it.
Then I remembered the phone call.
*Once the baby is here, it won’t matter what she knows.*
“You look tired,” Penelope said, crossing the kitchen to hug me.
Her arms went around me carefully, the way everyone hugged me now, aware of the belly.
