"Richard, stop!" I snapped angrily at him after he kept touching my stomach for the umpteenth time while talking to it. It was on a Sunday, and we were lying down on the bed while Richard's hands kept wandering to my stomach. I thought I was going to be baby-crazed, but Richard beat me to it. Whenever he had the time, he would dote on me, constantly touching my stomach and talking to our child in that sickening baby voice adults do. He never missed a hospital appointment, no matter how busy he was. I will admit, it was cute. He was constantly bringing me food and tending to me. He massaged my feet even though he was a horrible masseur, but it was the thought that counted, so I didn't hold it against him. The pregnancy was now in its tenth week, and I had begun to spot a bump. As the pregnancy advanced, I was dealing with constant cravings, and today was one of those days. "But, baby, I am just telling him about the pack. According to Werewolf Pregnancy 101, they said it is good to
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