“I can tell he likes you,” Heath’s dad, David, says as he takes a sip of the wine we got him, from the local liquor store this time.

“What gave it away? My giant belly?” I grin. At four months, my belly is hardly giant, but you can definitely tell that there’s a bun baking in the oven.

“I’m an old-fashioned man. I don’t know anything about pregnancy. Back in my days, that was women's business.” As David gives me a cheeky smile, the sparkle in his blue eyes reminds me of Heath.

By that, to be more specific, he means pregnancy was Martha’s business. Heath's mom is whipping up some dessert. I can hear the clangs of pots and pans in the kitchen. I feel useless just sitting here twiddling my thumbs, but Martha insists she doesn’t need my help.

She looked gutted when she realized she was missing an important ingredient, so Heath offered to go out and buy it.

I love how Heath treats his family. Every time he refills his dad’s glass of water, I tear up. I keep thinking about us being old and grey, with kids of our own. I’d die happy if our kids treated us like he treats his parents.

I wanted to go with Heath to the store, but David asked me to stay and—hell, I can’t say “no” to the future grandfather of my unborn child, can I? Especially when he also happens to be terminally ill.

So it’s just David and me now, chilling in their living room—David in his recliner, and me on the sofa across the coffee table from him.

“It’s the wine,” David says as he lifts up his glass, disturbing the red wine inside.

“What about the wine?”

“This is good wine.”

“I know. I have good taste in wine,” I say, grinning.

“Bullshit,” he says, waving his pale, frail hand dismissively.

I widen my eyes, channeling a picture of innocence. “What are you talking about?”

“This wine has Heath written all over it. You’re lying to me, young lady. But now I know the truth.” David’s lips form a lopsided smile, not unlike Heath’s, and he says, “He picked the wine, didn’t he? And he told you to lie to me.”

I let out a big exhale and raise my hands in defeat. “You got me.”

“I may not know anything about pregnancy, but I know my wines. And this wine has strong undertones of my-son’s-helping-a-girl-impress-me.”

Something rises up my throat and escapes through my eyes as tears. God, this pregnancy… I’m so damn emotional lately.

“Dad, why did you make her cry? What did you do to her?” Heath says loudly as he enters the room. He joins me on the couch, wraps his arm around my shoulders, and wipes my tears away with his warm, gentle fingers. He grins at David. “Just kidding. I know how easily she cries these days. The smallest things set her off.”

“You don’t have to tell me about it. When your mother was pregnant with you, I had to sneak out of the house just to breathe at a normal volume.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about pregnancy,” I say.

David raises his eyebrows. “Shots fired.” He looks at Heath and says, “I can see why you like this one.”

“So really, what did he do?” Heath asks me.

“He, uh, said you like me,” I say in a small voice.

Heath bursts out laughing. “How could you, Dad?”

“Looks like everyone’s having fun,” Martha says as she brings a tray out and places it on the coffee table. On the tray are little brown squares with white cream and bits of kiwis and strawberries on top. “These are baked wonton wrappers with yogurt and fruits. Strange combination, I know. But I’ve been trying to cook healthier and they taste pretty good together.”

Martha picks up one of the little squares and feeds it to David.

“This is better than just ‘pretty good,’ dear,” David says.

I give Heath a look. Your parents are adorable!

Heath gives me a strange smile that I can’t decode.

It’s only much later, after many more dinners with his parents, do I learn the truth.

When I’m thirty weeks pregnant, Heath tells me something that I never would’ve guessed about his parents.

We’ve just had a lovely dinner together, as a family. Man, I just love the fact that I can say the word “family” and feel good about it these days.

We say our goodbyes at the door of Martha and David’s house, then Heath and I step out into the cold, winter night. The sky is bright red, and snow covers the ground.

I hold on to Heath’s arm for balance as I waddle. It’s hard to worry about being graceful with a giant bump on my belly.

“Your parents are wonderful,” I say for probably the hundredth time.

“My parents…” The corners of Heath’s lips tug up—there’s that strange smile again. “Things haven’t always been this way with my parents.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They used to… When I was little, they were separated,” Heath says.

“It’s hard for me to imagine that. They look so happy together.”

“Yeah. The separation lasted three years. They couldn’t stay apart for long. It was stupid.”

“How old were you?” I ask, sensing the hint of pain in Heath’s voice.

“About seven,” Heath says, not offering more information.

“Did you live with your mom, or your dad? Or did they continue to live together?”

“I lived with my Grandpa Joe. My dad’s dad.” Heath lets out a sigh. “I guess my parents had me too young. They had to drop everything and become adults. Eventually, they cracked under pressure, I guess.”

“Heath!” I hear Martha call from behind us. I twist to see her waving something in the air—something black and familiar. “You left your scarf.”

Heath looks at his mom, then he turns to me. Handing me his car keys, he says, “It’s cold. You’d better get inside the car first. This could take a while. My mom can be really chatty.”

As Heath strides briskly back to the porch that we just left, I blow on my hands, trying to keep them warm. I press the button to unlock Heath’s car doors, then I start to walk toward the black sedan, the top up now that it’s winter.

When I take my step, I realize something’s wrong. There’s no friction. My foot slips further, past the point where I can regain my balance. With my pregnant belly changing my center of gravity, it’s hard to correct my stance.

Just like in slow motion, I fall toward the ground. The grey cement slabs are covered by a thin veneer of slippery ice. I let out a shriek. From the corner of my eyes, I can see Heath looking my way.

And then, I hit the cold, hard ground. My whole body hurts. But what’s worse than that is, as the sound of Heath’s shoes pounding the sidewalk echo in the background, I feel something warm leak out of me and I see blood staining the crotch of my pants.