"You're all ... glowy," says Carter, suspicious, looking at John.
"Am I?" says John, smiling a little.
"And you seem to have gained a little weight around the tum," says Carter, and stops for a minute. She tries not to be obvious about sniffing but -- "Oh my god," she says, "Oh my god." You don't forget that sweet smell, not after falling asleep and waking up to it for nine months. She used to nuzzle into his neck, just under his ear, where it was the strongest and most delicious. She was a little sad that it faded after Taylor was born, but she'd thought -- well. At least she has Taylor.
"Hmm," says John, "Is there something wrong, Carter?"
Carter opens her mouth, closes it again, and points at him. "Who - who - what - you're a - who knocked you up?"
"Who do you think did it," says John, turning the page of a catalog that Carter is horrified to realize is baby supplies and not mass weapons of destruction.
"Dear God," says Carter blankly.