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“Of course. Bye, girl.”

“Bye.”

I hung up.

Fuck.

I stood there staring at myself in the mirror.

Pregnant.

Again.

By my sister’s fucking husband.

Again.

“Nope.”

I wrapped the test in toilet paper and shoved it deep into the bathroom trash.

One problem at a fucking time.

I went into my bedroom to get Carter.

She was pushing five months now and already trying little mushy foods, Sweet potatoes, bananas, applesauce, all that nasty-looking baby shit she acted like was five-star dining.

Which I fucking loved because I could finally see the finish line with this pumping shit.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

Carter kicked her legs when she saw me.

“Yeah. Mommy’s life is in fucking shambles, but you don’t care.”

She smiled.

“Exactly.”

The doorbell rang.

I frowned.

Who the fuck?

I carried Carter toward the intercom and pressed the button.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me. Open the door.”

I closed my eyes.

Of fucking course.

Xay.

I buzzed him in.