In the recording, I laughed. “What’s wrong with the button ones?”
“No buttons at three in the morning,” Claire said. “Trust me. You’ll cry before the babies do.”
I pressed my thumb against my wedding ring.
“Fine,” my recorded voice said. “Zip-ups.”
“And yellow,” she added. “Everyone buys pink, and they’re babies, not cupcakes.”
I laughed in the car, then covered my mouth when the laugh turned into something else.
Claire had been gone for three weeks. I still caught myself turning to tell her things.
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