"You really love her, too, don't you?"
"All the way. She's been my mother for forty years now."
I wonder if his birth mom dying when he was just a baby is why he's obsessed with my boobs. Maybe he had to wean too early. That brings something to mind. "Were you jealous when you learned you were going to have a sibling? Especially since you'd had her to yourself for those first few years."
"Not at all. We were all so excited when she got pregnant with Connor. And when he made his way into this world, all three of us fell in love with him. Growing up, he could be a pain in the ass, but that's the way it is with all siblings. As far as I'm concerned, he's my full-blooded brother. Period."
"Did you worry that Corina loved him more since he was her first birth child?" I've often wondered if I'd subconsciously treat my children differently if I managed to have a biological child after adopting one.
"Never," he affirms in a resolute tone. "She showered the both of us in love." He shifts in his seat, laughing as he apparently thinks of something from his childhood. "Also disciplined us the same amount. But there's something about the heart of a parent—mother or father—that expands and lets more love in for their children, no matter how those kids come to be. And I have no doubt that any kid we get lucky enough to add to our family will be loved just as equally by both of us."
"You're right, I know you are, but I secretly worry that I'll do it and not even realize it." And that would kill me. I grimace at the sudden pang in my abdomen. "Can you drive a little faster, baby? I don't feel too well all of a sudden."
Immediately, the truck smoothly accelerates. "Youokay? Do I need to pull over?"
"No, but I think we really need to get home soon." I have a feeling I know what it is, but I'm praying that I'm wrong.Please. Please let me be wrong.
He squeezes my knee. "Ten minutes or less, baby. Hang on."
When we make it within seven minutes, I'm out of the truck as soon as he stops beside my car in the driveway. "You can get the door for me later. Igotta..." I pant as I run up the steps and hurriedly press my thumb to unlock the front door. Dashing to the bathroom, I sit on the toilet and pull down my underwear.
Red marks.
My period.
I'm not pregnant.
No.
I fall back against the toilet, a cry of anguish leaving me.
"Mercy!" Amos bursts into the bathroom, looking wildly around for the source of my distress. "What's the matter?"
Throat tight with misery, I tell him as tears trail down my face. "I'm not pregnant. I hoped... God, I'd hoped because my breasts were so heavy and I hadn't had a period in six weeks. But I knew it was too soon to even think about it. Why, Amos? Why won't my body do what it's supposed to do?"
I'm about to have a breakdown on the toilet with my pants and underwear down at my ankles.
"Oh, baby." Sadness written all over his face, he kneels beside me and hugs me, heavy hands petting my hair. "I don't know, but it'sgonnabe okay. Let it all out now because I've got you."
Now that he's holding me, I unleash all my tears onto him, soaking his shoulder. When my eyes run dry, I listlessly move back and reach for some facial tissue. "I need a tampon."
Searching for a sign that I'm okay for the moment, he nods. "I'll get it for you."
I don't argue. Can't even find it in myself to stop him from cleaning me, putting fresh underwear on me, and carrying me to the bed. When he crawls over me and kisses my abdomen, bitterness bubbles up. I don't want him kissing me there and reminding me of what could have been. "Let's look at the adoption website now. Can you get the tablet?"
His tone is careful as he cautiously pulls it from the nightstand. "Why don't we wait a while before we do this?
"No," I say sharply. Too sharply. I soften my reply a bit. "I need to do this now. Please, Amos."
Silently, he pulls up the website we bookmarked a few weeks ago and clicks around. I grab his forearm. "Look at that little boy. Isaiah, twelve years old. He loves books and is searching for his forever family," I read aloud. "Carly and Christopher, three-year-old twins. They love holding hands and being held, playing with each other. Waiting for their forever family."
Amos murmurs in sympathy.
The more we look, the more my heart breaks. Soon, the tears I thought were all dried up come back with a vengeance. "Why is this so hard? It seems like we're practically shopping for the perfect child. Why are there so many options? This site lets you filter by age range, race, gender... They're human beings, not commodities! How many of these kids get picked over because someone doesn't like the way they look? If they'd only go and get to know them—" Words turn into broken sobs. "It's not fair. I look at these poor kids and just want to take all of them with us. How are we supposed to say 'I'll take this one but not that one' knowing that they all just want a family, too?"
"Mercy."
Raw emotion roughens my voice as I stare blindly at the images on the screen. "How can we take just one and leave all the others behind?"Like I was.
