Page 157 of First in Line

Fuck… I can’t leave like this, when we’re fighting. But I also can’t miss my flight.

Feeling like shit for making my pregnant wife cry, I come in and wrap my arms around her in a tender hug. She lets me, which I didn’t really expect.

About two months after the accident, I watched the video of my crash. It looked so much worse than when I experienced it. The car actually flipped in the air twice before landing back on the ground. I never even noticed that. And the engine fire was much larger than I recalled.

She saw it all unfold in real time. The crash, the flips, the sliding, the fire, my inability to get out, the medics strapping me to a stretcher… She thought I was going to die, and she hasn’t been able to shake that idea out of her head since.

I hold her like this for a long moment, waiting for her sobs to slowly fade and for her tears to be quenched. When she stops shaking in my arms, I kiss the top of her head and pull away. She lets me as I guide her to the bed, to sit next to my suitcase.

The time-out was good, allowing our high emotions to go down so we can resume our conversation more calmly.

“Listen,” I say softly, crouching down. “I’ll be gone for just five days. We can do five days, right? We did nine months, remember?” I wipe away her tears, hating to see her like this. She nods. “I’ll see if I can find a masseuse who does house calls. She’ll come every day to help you relax. You’ll rest and take care of yourself the whole weekend. But you won’t watch the race, okay? I promise you I’ll be fine, but I don’t want you watching and worrying.”

She nods again.

I lay a hand over the roundness of her stomach and say, “Our girl is supposed to arrive between Australia and Azerbaijan. Which means if everything goes well, there’s one more race to go through after this one.”

Already, I can see concern resurfacing in her misty eyes. So I quickly suggest, “I’ll call my mom and see if she can come live with us until the baby is here. It would be nice to have her around, wouldn’t it? She’d make you her pecan pie. And that oxtail stew you love.”

A small, shy smile twists the corners of her lips. “It would be nice to have her, yes.”

“Good. I can see if your mom wants to come as well, if you—”

She gives my shoulder a shove, almost making me lose my balance. “You’re an a-hole.” She smiles, though, shaking her head.

I take the hand that shoved me away and kiss its palm. “I am. But you love me anyway.”

“Against my better judgment, yes, I do.”

She lets me kiss her, and then I press my lips on the heavy bump between us.

“You be good to your mommy while I’m away, baby girl.”

“I’ve been thinking, for her name…”

“Yeah?”

She hesitates, passing a hand over the taut skin of her stomach. We’ve been throwing name suggestions around, but nothing has felt right yet.

“I really like… Ophelia,” she says.

“Like inHamlet?”

“You readHamlet?” she asks with unmasked surprise.

“I read it in high school, yeah. Everyone was plotting against everyone. It was a mess. Kinda reminded me ofThe Lion King.”

She giggles and grabs my face for one more kiss. “You’re an idiot, Jackson Reyes, but you’remyidiot.”

“I am?” She nods. “I’ll take it.”

I look down at her stomach, caress it, and say, “Hear that, Ophelia? I’m Mommy’s idiot.”

“You like the name?”

“I do. It’s beautiful. Perfect for her.”

I give my wife one more peck and return to the closet to get the last of my things. Once everything is ready, I close my suitcase, zip it, and set it down on the floor. When I return in front of her to take her necklace off so I can take it with me, I can tell she hates this but holds back from asking me to stay. She knows it’s pointless.