“Mercy?” Jesse asked.
“Uhm?” I answered, swerving into the next lane over to avoid being hit by a minivan.
“When are you and Dad going to have a baby?”
Chills broke out all over my body. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move—and I hit the SUV in front of me at about thirty miles an hour. I’m pretty sure that the Scottish Play had nothing to do with it.
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