Joanne thought back… how many weeks had it been?
The timing lined up. The fatigue. The heightened emotions. The sudden distaste for her usual morning coffee and her nightly whiskey. She'd dismissed them all.
But now?
Now it felt real.
A shiver ran through her, not from the cold, but from the magnitude of what she was beginning to suspect.
There might be something growing inside her.
Not just flowers in the field.
But life.
Their life.
After sending off a worried Patrick with a weak smile, Joanne stepped back into the house. Her hands trembled slightly as she peeled off her coat. She needed to buy a test—soon.
Cling
Another message chimed.
Did you see the snowdrops? Send me a picture of you… tasteful… covered only by snowdrops…
Her jaw tightened.
Was he serious?
Here she was, overwhelmed with fear and uncertainty, her body betraying her in the most vulnerable moment—and that lecherous, ever-horny idiot wanted a nude photo?
Tasteful, he said. Tasteful!
