Page 33 of What We Become

“Ecstatic.” I pull the duffel onto the bed. “What do you want to wear?”

“The silk pajamas. Milo will know if I don’t.”

“He probably put a sensor in them.”

“He already put trackers in all my shoes.”

“Of course he did.”

I help her into her underwear first. Then the pajama bottoms, careful around the burns on her ankles and legs. She holds my shoulders while I pull them into place.

“Arms out.”

She holds them out slowly. I ease the sleeves over her bandaged wrists and capped IV port, then wrap the top around her and twist each button closed at the front. When I’m done, the silk settles against her skin, and she sighs.

“Milo was right,” I admit.

“Don’t tell him. He’ll become unbearable.”

“Become?”

“Good point.”

I help her to lie back, pull the cashmere blanket across her lap, and make sure the oxygen mask is still properly covering her face.

“So, five kids, huh?” I settle myself on the edge of the mattress.

“Is that crazy to want that?” she asks. “I mean, this isn’t the first time someone’s tried to kill me.”

“It isn’t crazy. Stephen doesn’t get to decide whether we have a family. Once he’s out of the equation, we can talk about five. Or six. Whatever family size you want.”

“What about you? Is that something you’d want?”

The question sits between us longer than most questions do.

Children.

I think of my students and the excitement for life they all have. The chrysalises hanging in their mesh habitat at the back of my classroom. Every card with a misspelled Mr. Wrod in crayon, every one of them folded into my desk drawer like evidence of something I never let myself name.

“Yes,” I say.

Her brows rise enough to shift the mask.

“I’m a teacher, Sage. I’ve spent years loving other people’s children and handing them back at three o’clock. I told myself that was enough. That it was the correct allotment for a man like me.” My throat works around the rest of it. “But I told myself I couldn’t have a lot of things, and you keep proving me wrong.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I do, don’t I?”

I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, Eli,” she whispers.

“I love you too.”

A knock lands half a second before Dr. Shahid enters with fresh dressings and the IV line.

“Fifteen minutes,” he says, checking the clock. “I’m impressed.”

“I’m very obedient,” Sage says through the mask.