Chapter 3

From that day on, a chart appeared on the refrigerator door.

Breakfast: one egg.

Lunch: 80 grams of lean meat and 300 grams of vegetables.

Dinner: no carbohydrates.

8,000 steps a day. No eating after seven in the evening.

Gracie even brought me a set of smaller food containers.

"Fill the container so it looks full. Pregnant women are more likely to trick their brains into thinking they've eaten enough that way."

I looked at the container, barely bigger than my palm. I was so hungry I didn't even have the energy to get angry anymore.

On the third night, I woke up from hunger twice.

On the fourth day, I crouched down to tie my shoelaces, and my vision went black. I pitched forward and hit my head against the shoe cabinet.

Greyson came out of the bedroom when he heard the noise. "What happened?"

I sat on the floor for a long time, too dazed to answer.

He reached out, felt my forehead, and pulled me to my feet. "Is your blood sugar low? Gracie said this is normal. Your body reacts when it starts burning fat."

He took half a cracker from the cupboard and handed it to me. "Eat this."

I stared at the cracker, suddenly remembering the second year of our marriage, when I was hospitalized with acute gastritis.

Greyson had worried that the hospital food wouldn't taste good, so he'd gotten up at six every morning to make me oats.

Back then, he was always saying, "Your stomach is so sensitive. Even the thought of you going hungry for a minute breaks my heart."

Now I was carrying his child, hungry enough to collapse, and all he was willing to give me was half a cracker.

I didn't take it. My voice came out low and quiet. "Give me the whole thing. I'm really hungry."

He was silent for two seconds, then broke off the other half and ate it himself. "Rules are rules. We can't keep making exceptions."

That night, I lay with my back to him, crying until half my pillow was soaked.

The next day was one of Greyson's friends' birthdays. I hadn't wanted to go, but he tossed the dress I'd worn before pregnancy onto the bed. "Wear this."

The zipper wouldn't go past my waist. I stared at my swollen belly in the mirror. "It doesn't fit."

Without even looking up, he said, "Suck it in."

I was almost laughing from sheer frustration. "There's a baby in my belly. Sucking in my stomach isn't going to make it disappear."

Greyson irritably yanked off his tie. "Then find something that doesn't make you look so fat."

In the end, I changed into a loose black knit dress.

Greyson didn't speak to me again the entire drive.

When we arrived at the restaurant, he tugged at the hem of my dress. "Once we're inside, don't eat too much. Don't embarrass me."

My fingers stiffened. Before I could say anything, he had already pushed open the private dining room door. More than a dozen people were seated inside.

The moment I walked in, someone burst out laughing. "Hey, how many months pregnant are you? Your belly isn't even that big, but the rest of you has already gone round."

The others joined in.

"Greyson, have you been feeding her too well?"

"At this rate, won't she weigh 150 pounds after giving birth?"

"Forget 150. Keep going like this, and she'll be so heavy by the end of the month she'll crush you flat."

The whole table erupted in laughter.

I stood at the doorway, gripping the hem of my dress.

Greyson acted as though he hadn't heard a thing. He simply pulled out a chair and sat down.

Someone gave him a knowing look. "Seriously, man, didn't you used to have such high standards when it came to women? How does it feel bringing your wife out now? Must be a pretty big letdown."

I instinctively looked at Greyson.

But he merely lifted his teacup and took a sip. "What can I do? The moment she got pregnant, she started eating like a pig. It's like she doesn't know when to stop."

Another round of laughter swept across the table.

I stood there as my face grew hotter and hotter.

Gracie was seated beside Greyson. She took the initiative to pull out a chair for me. "Alana, sit here."

There was a pot of my favorite seafood chowder on the table.

I'd barely picked up the ladle when Greyson pressed my arm down. "Too creamy."

Everyone's eyes turned toward us. I slowly withdrew my hand. For the rest of the meal, all I ate were a few pieces of lettuce.

When dinner ended, the elevator was out of order. The private dining room was on the sixth floor.

By the time I reached the third floor, my belly had started tightening.

"Greyson, I can't walk anymore. My stomach hurts…"

He was looking down at a message from Gracie. When he heard me, his expression turned ugly. "Alana, can you stop using your stomach as an excuse every time I ask you to exercise?"

Seeing me gripping the railing, Greyson turned and headed downstairs. "Take your time, then. I'll wait for you in the car."

By the time I finally made it to the ground floor, he'd already been sitting in the car for more than twenty minutes.

A cake he'd bought for Gracie sat on the passenger seat.

Greyson followed my gaze. "It's for Gracie. Her blood sugar gets low sometimes."

I suddenly burst out laughing. So when Gracie's blood sugar dropped, she deserved an entire cake made with real cream.

When mine dropped, I deserved half a cracker.