“You’re just asking questions, not telling me what you’re thinking, Bambina,” he chides softly. “I want to know how all of this is making you feel. I want to know if my going to see her will upset you,” he sighs. “You’ve never told me how you feel about there even being a baby.”  

I turn my face away and hold down everything because talking about this is too hard.  

If I tell him how I feel, what then? It’s not exactly good. And then he’ll know how much ...