“I know.”
I pulled out the chair beside him.
Marcus hesitated.
Then he reopened the page.
It was information about organ and tissue donation.
I felt something inside me collapse.
“Marcus.”
“I need you to listen before you get angry.”
“No.”
“Tess.”
“No. Absolutely not. We are not doing this tonight.”
He reached for my hand.
I pulled it away.
“You’re still alive.”
“I know.”
“Our daughter kicks every time you talk.”
“I know.”
“She recognizes your voice.”
“I know.”
“Then stop planning what happens to your body after you’re gone.”
His face changed.
Not dramatically.
Marcus rarely showed pain dramatically.
His shoulders simply lowered.
“Tessa, the planning doesn’t make me die faster.”
I looked away.
He continued.
“I’ve been registered as a donor since I was nineteen.”
That surprised me.
