Page 83 of Baby, One More Time

I smile. Not so much for the text content, but because it’s the first time Marissa has initiated an exchange as opposed to just replying to me.

To Marissa:

My, my, Mayer, texting in the middle of the workday

From Marissa:

It’s basically a pre-holiday

To Marissa:

Anyway, now I know why I was feeling so exhausted

From Marissa:

???

To Marissa:

From running through your head all day, can’t stop thinking about me?

From Marissa:

No, you’re right, the slight nausea is a constant reminder your spawn is growing inside me

I chuckle at that.

To Marissa:

Don’t offend our little olive

The baby has progressed from a tiny seed to small fruit.

To Marissa:

And eat crackers

From Marissa:

You eat crackers

To Marissa:

Not foodie enough, I need at least homemade kale chips

From Marissa:

You’re disgusting

A knock on the door makes me look up from the phone screen.

“Come in,” I say.

A nurse pokes her head in the doorway. “Mrs. Taylor is at nine centimeters. You said to call you when she got close to ten.”

“I’ll be right there.”

To Marissa:

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