The silence that followed was so dense it could’ve shattered glass. Tula looked at him as if he’d spoken in tongues. “You think I’m what? Pregnant? At seventy-two?” Ashley gasped audibly behind him, clutching the chair. “No,” she said. “That’s not possible. That’s not possible.”
Tula turned to her daughter, eyes wild. “You think I’ve… been with someone?” Her voice was cold, sharper than it had ever been. “Don’t you dare ask me that. Don’t you insult me like that.” Ashley shook her head rapidly, tears gathering. “No—I didn’t—I just—I’m trying to understand!”