Monday morning came too fast. I woke up tangled in sheets, Mateo's stolen polo twisted around me like a second skin. Funny to accept I now use it as my pajamas. Felt like sleep cuddle from Matoe every night.

The alarm blared. I slapped it quiet and lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling. Three weeks pregnant. Mateo knew. He was happy. Jake was probably already in Berlin, or on his way here. I should have gotten a call already.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, washed up, brushed my teeth, pulled on fresh scrubs. Morning shift again this week-same as the last. Routine. Safe. Predictable.

I checked...