The word is said carefully. It's not meant to convey the message of, “We have to talk.” Rather, she's trying to get, “I'd like to talk, but I want to be here for you above all else,” into her subtext.
“Tom has warned me.
“He mentioned that you knew her before, but that was long ago. Before you met him. Before you knew me. I know it's not something you're proud of, but you should know it's something I'm very proud of you for leaving.”
She moves, reaching to hold.
“I want to know what happened, the same way I want to know everything about you. But I understand. I know why you wouldn't want to talk to me about it.
“Though you should know, you have no reason to be ashamed. You are strong. You are fiercely loving. You are the husband by my side, father of our child, and no evil of your past is ever going to change that. I love you. Always have, always will.
“I hope that, one day, you will tell me, but today doesn't need to be that day.”
She leans forward, her forehead tilted enough to touch the mirror.
“Oh, that's going to sound silly...” she murmurs. “It's always the ones you want to talk to the most that are the most difficult to speak to.”
She rubs at the curve of her belly, her previous concern softly turned into a smile at the reassuring little fluttery kicks she feels.
“I do love you so, dear,” she says to her baby. “Mama sounds ridiculous right now, doesn't she?”
The flutters don't say anything different.
“Your Papa loves you, too. He worries so about us when he is the one that deserves the worry.”
Mia glances down, properly taking in her shape.
“How you will light up his life. You'll be the apple of his eye. He's already so happy to know you're here, just as I am. I'm sure he'll love to hold you, and I hope he tickles you and sings to you.”