Laura
I was surprised when Stephen called to say that his father wanted to have dinner with us at the loft. In my innocence, I thought his dad would be cooking the dinner himself.
Instead, it was some chef in the kitchen who prepared it. The food was good, but I don't know—maybe being pregnant has me missing normal things.
That’s why I’m so very confused right now. “You want to live here?” I asked Stephen as we sat on his father’s couch.
After dinner, Stephen said we had to discuss something. I've learned that when Stephen uses the word “discuss,” it usually means bad news.
And I was right because my husband has lost his mind.
“Think about it, Laura. We can have privacy here, just you and me. You wouldn’t be stressed out like you are now with my mother,” he said.
I turned my head to
