“Do you have to go to the inauguration?” Frade asked as he peeled the apple. “The doctor told me your due date is coming up.”
The skin he cut off with a knife was attached to the flesh of the apple, and less than two-thirds of the whole apple was left in his hand. I stared at the silver knife in his hand and asked, “Do you have a problem with apples?”
“I hope this knife didn't cut apples, but...”
“Stop,” I reminded him. “Watch your mouth.”
“I don't want you to go to a crowded place,” Frade said, handing me a peeled apple. “In that case, all eyes are on the new president. If you're not feeling well or...”
“Ian will have a nurse with me,” I said. “Besides, I only promised to be at the inauguration, and as soon as it's over, I'll be home.”
“I'm going with you,” Frade said, “Or I won't trust you.”
“Sure,” I readily agreed. “I'll tell Ian and get him to set you up.”
“All I have to do is stand next to you.” Frade walked to the bed and brushed my cheek, then put a hand on my belly.
