August was so caught up in the movements of their son that he was caught off guard by her declaration. He should not have been — they had had several intimate conversations last summer and one intimate conversation, and she was carrying his child. For a moment all August could do was look into her warm, brown eyes and try to parse the earnestness with which she'd said it.

"I love you too," he said softly. It was true, in his limited experiences of romance — he loved her. It may have been easier for him if he didn't.

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