He tries again, louder.
Still, I just bite my lip harder.
Please, God. Let him understand. Let him not freak the fuck out. Let him—just let this go well.
“Is this what I think it is?”
Frame this in the most positive light possible. That should do it…right?
My heart thuds as I peek through my fingers.
His gaze is trained on the stick, and I can almost hear the wheels turning in his mind.
Positive test. Positive spin.
I drag in a great breath, steeling myself for whatever will happen next. “So, you know how you told me your doctors said you might be shooting blanks?”
His eyes dart to meet mine, his expression tightening. “Yes.”
“Surprise!” I smile a big, cheesy smile.
Keep it positive. Nothing negative going on here.
I pat my tummy. “Fully loaded.”
A myriad of expressions skips across his features. Uncertainty. Confusion. Disbelief.
Looks like he’s settling on shock for the moment.
I wait.
Let him take it in.
Finally, he seems to get his tongue untied. “But there was only that one time.”
“Only takes once.”
Adam’s phone vibrates on the table, beeping at the same time. He tosses it a glance but doesn’t move to get it.
He carefully lays the pregnancy test on the edge of the counter, and then props his hands at his hips.
We stand naked in my kitchen. The mastodon is now loose and tearing its way through my world. And I need a drink—but can’t have one—at least for another nine months or so.
Damn it.
“I’m going to grab a robe.” I head toward my bathroom.
In the lavatory, I wash my face and stare at my reflection.
I berate myself. “Dumbass. You should’ve told him first thing. Just spit it out. Then it would’ve been done.”
When I step into my bedroom, Adam’s clothes are gone.
I check the rest of the house.
Adam is gone.
I tuck Maddie in, kissing her on her forehead.
She looks up at me, her little pink lip poking out. “When will Mommy come home? She’s not gone forever like Daddy, is she?”
I rub my neck to help me swallow the brick that lodges in my throat. “She’ll be home soon, Maddiekins. She had to go with Ryan. But she’s not gone forever.”
“Thank you for taking me to my dance.”
I pull at the knot on my tie, loosening it to breathe better. “You’re welcome. I hope you’ll ask me again.”
Her little lashes shadow her pale cheeks as she nods. “I will.”
Her yawn is contagious. I stretch and yawn as I flip her lamp off and pull the door closed, leaving a crack so the light can seep in, in case she wakes in the night.
I grab the strewn toys from the floor and pile them in the laundry basket I’ve commandeered for this purpose. I’ll try to figure out where they all belong tomorrow. The dishes are done, though not dried and put away. That can also happen tomorrow.
Right now, all I want is to sit.
I fall onto Jen’s couch. Something jabs me in the ribs. I pull the G.I. Joe action figure from between the cushions and toss it across the room toward the basket. It goes wide.
Oh well. Maybe I’ll hit it next time.
I adjust the pillows I’ve been sleeping on behind my head and lie back, letting the tension flow from my sore back. I swear, if I’ve picked Maddie up once in the last few days, I’ve done it a hundred times—sucker that I am.
Exhaustion doesn’t even describe the level of tiredness I feel at this moment. It’s not as bad as when Carter and I were overseas, but not far from it.
Who knew taking care of two kids could be so much work? And that doesn’t even include the house shit that has to be done every stinking day.
I was right all along. Kids are cute, but a total pain in the ass.
I was thinking that at five and eight, Maddie and Tucker would be pretty self-sufficient. Yeah, not so much.
It’s a good thing I love those two rugrats, otherwise I’d be looking for a nanny to care for them while Jen’s off with Ryan at the Children’s Hospital.
My gut clenches.
Hospital. Ryan.
Those two words should never be used in the same sentence.
Luckily, when Jen called earlier, she said the doc told her Ryan’s going to heal up fine. The second surgery on his leg seems to have done the trick.
Eleven-year-olds don’t always use the best judgment. This one especially.
But, I’d bet he won’t go jumping off the roof again anytime soon. He completely missed the trampoline. Good thing he was wearing his football helmet, no telling what kind of damage his hard head would’ve done to the backyard.
That kid—if he doesn’t learn his boundaries…shit, who am I kidding? His dad never knew his, and I sure as fuck never knew mine. I was probably lucky to make it to adulthood.