She didn't say anything to him as she pulled the door open, not even in response to his halfhearted greeting. It hurt more than probably anything else to know that this was what they had turned into: two people who could barely look each other in the face anymore. The metaphorical knife he'd plunged into her was twisted a little when she saw him standing on her doorstep like a stranger, and so she just looked away and headed back towards the sofa, silently beckoning him to follow her.
She didn't know how he would react to this, and all of a sudden, she wondered if this had even been such a good idea. Maybe he just didn't want to be bothered with those more intimate details. He cared, yes, but that didn't mean he wanted to be so hands-on. Maybe he would just shrug and look all awkward when he felt it, and that would be it. She wondered if she could handle that. She'd been shocked when she felt those rolling, tapping motions, but then a certain kind of excitement set in. Sure, she knew she was carrying a child for a while, but now it was moving. More concrete proof that there was a whole other person inside there.
After she'd lowered herself into a sitting position again, finding it more difficult to do every day, it seemed, she glanced over her shoulder and simply said, "Sit down for a minute."