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“Will you talk to me, princess?”

I swallow.

“I…” Fuck, this is so stupid.

I’m ridiculous for being this emotional.

I was prepared to not get pregnant for a long time. Potentially a couple of years. But being mentally prepared and actually getting your period are two completely different things. Especially when getting a period for me can mean I’m in for weeks of hell. Weeks of pain and bleeding and discomfort. Weeks where I can’t make love with the man in my life.

“I got my period!” I blurt, bursting into tears.

To his credit, he seems to instantly understand.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He strokes my back and presses kisses on my temple. “We knew it wouldn’t happen right away. Come on. Don’t cry.”

“I got my period!” I repeat. “Which can sometimes last for weeks…even a few months. And that means we can’t⁠—”

“You think I’m going to be turned off by a little blood?” he asks incredulously. “That’s what showers are for. But anyway, even if you can’t, it’s okay. I can wait. It won’t last forever. This is how it works for you, right? You don’t get a period for months and then when you do, it lasts for a while. But then it goes away. Yes?”

I nod miserably.

“Okay. So, nothing is wrong, per se. You’re just disappointed.”

“And everything hurts,” I whisper. “The cramps are so bad this time.”

“What did you take?”

I give him the list of medications my doctors prescribe, and he nods.

“Did you eat?”

I motion wildly to the mess of empty bags and wrappers. “Yeah. Kind of.”

“That’s not nutrition, honey. That’s junk.”

I start to protest but he cuts me off.

“And it’s totally fine to indulge in junk when you’re feeling like this. But only when it’s in addition to nutrition. You need some protein. Maybe some soup to soothe your stomach. What if I run to the diner on⁠—”

“No. I don’t want you to leave me.” I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tight. “Will you just hold me?”

“I will. As long as you need.”

For the first time since I felt the first twinges from the cramps, I start to relax.

Although, now that he mentioned soup, I would be down for the matzo ball soup from the diner he was about to mention. It’s really good. Total comfort food. But delicious.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, after we’ve sat there for at least ten minutes. “My periods really throw me for a loop. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. I knew intellectually I wouldn’t get pregnant this fast but…”

“But you were hoping you would. I know. Me too.”

Him too?

Is that even possible?

I frown and tilt my face up to look at him. “You’re…disappointed?”

He frowns back. “Well, yeah. I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I wasn’t excited about making a baby. Should I not be disappointed?”