"Not every person is you, Phillip," Whitney said, grinding her teeth. It was hardly as nasty a comment as it could be, but right now, when she'd already had several attacks of conscience in laying out her life – a life she couldn't give up unless she wanted to be miserable and crazy – in judgment of something a child should or shouldn't have. "Some children would love that kind of life, learning by doing, taught by history in person, having that much time with their mother..."
Shaking her head, she moved to get her shoes and bag. "I'm not marrying you, Phillip. I'm not subjecting some child to how completely dysfunctional we are together just to have the cute little image of a mommy and daddy and baby all together. I'd rather see this child deal with whatever comes with not having a nuclear family unit than have to suffer through parents who constantly fight and can't see eye to eye because they're so impossibly different."