Dash called again at dinner that evening from Rome. She picked the call, feeling subdued and just plain not up to arguing with his mother or sister about taking the call. Then she stood up and left the table. 

“Hello, Dash. Was there something you wanted?” she asked in a voice that sounded dead to her own ears.

“Yes, Tess, I want many things, but I called to apologize for my behavior when you told me about the baby.” He sounded tired. “I want our baby, honey. I am sorry I was less than enthusiastic when you told me.”

She dismissed the apology as too little, too late. Perhaps if...