8| Ice Cream.

I've made a decision.

The day after tomorrow, I'll go back to the hospital and put up the baby for adoption. Everything will be better that way.

Oliver releases me from the hug with a huge smile on his face.

"I've never been so happy to hear that someone has food poisoning before," he jokes, and we burst into a fit of laughter. A genuine one, even though it's based on lies.

I like Oliver; he's so lighthearted. Everything is so much easier with him.

"I'll go get myself some mac and cheese," he says, standing up from the bed, and I push deeper into the bed to lie down vertically.

"I'll catch some zees." I joke, and he pouts.

"It isn't even seven p.m. yet, and you want to sleep? When did you become so old?" He teases me, and I laugh.

"I don't know; I'm just tired. Tomorrow's another day." I say, and he nods. He starts to walk out of the room but stops when he gets to the door and turns back to face me.

"What?" I ask in a concerned tone.

"I just remembered something. My boss is making us