The image of Eames and Arthur joining her at her bedside floats in front of her eyes. She can see them holding her child- a daughter, she thinks. They'd be all smiles, her go-to sitters. Uncles for her little girl.
Her thumb circles her belly. "We won't say it in front of him, then."
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Her thumb circles her belly. "We won't say it in front of him, then."