Anxious knots tie up her lungs while they wait.

She thought she had gotten over all her bedroom self-consciousness—three years and two children will do that—but the whole concept of artificial insemination and what it involves has her blushing for weeks.

Remy just laughs at her. She throws a pillow at his head.

And it isn't just the embarrassment or potential risks or the very strange feeling when she has to wear that thing for an entire day to give enough time for conception. No, it's the waiting, uncertainly, until they know for sure one way or another.