104

With ice in my stomach and my heart in my throat, I lift my head. Camila continues to twirl, her skirt practically glowing. But when she stops short, heels together, and pivot to face me, the blood is easy to see. Red streaks across her stomach. It's not rounded with our baby anymore. It should be round. It should be fucking round.

"Camila!" I gasp, sitting up sharply.

Mila chuckles to my left. "He rises from the dead."

Hunching forward, I look at the blanket stretched over my lap. I recognize the blue cotton that pills too easily—I'd wanted to have it replaced but kept forgetting to tell someone, other issues always taken precedence over something as small as linens.

I'm in the cabin by the lake.

"When did we?" I whisper in amazement.

Mila releases an annoyed sound. "Not that long ago."

Lifting my arms in front of me, I study them curiously. Small bandages stick haphazardly all over my flesh. My wedding ring sits firmly on my finger.

"The glass didn't cut you that bad," she says, mis