ELENA'S POINT OF VIEW
I woke up to Alex staring at me again.
"That's creepy, you know." I tried to roll over but my belly made it nearly impossible. "How long have you been watching me?"
"Not long." He reached over and helped me sit up, his hands gentle on my arms. "How did you sleep?"
"Like a beached whale." I looked down at my stomach. It was enormous. Seven months pregnant and I felt like I was carrying a watermelon. A very active watermelon that kicked my ribs at three in the morning. "I'm starving."
"What do you want?"
I thought about it. "Pickles. And ice cream."
Alex didn't even blink. He just got up and headed for the door. "Pickles and ice cream. Got it."
"Wait." He stopped, turned back. "Actually, I want pancakes. With hot sauce."
"Pancakes with hot sauce."
"Is that weird?"
"Elena, last week you asked me to make you a peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich at midnight. Nothing surprises me anymore."
I smiled despite myself. "You're a saint."
