to be shocked. Her fiancé, Blake, leaned back in his white dinner jacket and smirked at me. “Don’t look so tragic, Ava. You can Uber to your checkups.”
The laughter grew louder.
I stood beside the dessert table, one hand beneath my belly and the other gripping the chair behind me. Those keys dangling from my mother’s fingers weren’t just keys. They were my independence. My high-risk pregnancy appointments were across town, and my husband Ethan traveled often for work. That car was the one thing that made me feel
