I popped out the beige pill and momentarily watched it float before flushing, then replaced the box on the sink where Mark could see it. He looked at us in the mirror, his face now half-shaven.
“Maybe we could get a dog, Jess. I’m not ready for a family—maybe I never will be.”
“Same here, I hate the little monsters, just the thought makes me physically sick.”
I did feel sick.
But how could a thought be making my breasts sore?
I started to scatter a trail of breadcrumbs.
“Did you know the pill isn’t 100% sure?”