Page 160
His forehead settles against mine. “I know.”
“And I didn't get a gender reveal.”
For a moment, neither of us says anything. I can almost feel the wheels turning in his mind.
Then I whisper, “I just thought… at least I could get all the firsts with the next baby, and it would be all that more special if it was a girl.”
His hands slide down to my hips. “If we have another baby, I'm going to be there for all of it.”
My eyes burn.
“You can put tiny clothes a plastic stick with your pee on it on the bed for me to find. And we can give cheesy announcement gifts to our families. And have some ridiculous party where people fire colored shit into the air. We can take monthly polaroids of me touching your stomach, and have a bear themed baby shower, and whatever stupid shit Pinterest tells mothers they need to do.”
His words get a wet laugh out of me.
Then he gets serious again. “And if Veronica's baby is a girl and she's mine, that doesn't take anything away from whatever we have someday.”
His thumb strokes along my spine. “If she's mine and she's a girl, she'll be my first daughter.”
The words sting.
“But she won't be our first daughter.”
My throat closes.
“That's more important to me.”
I stare at him “You can't say that if she's yours.”
“Why?”
“Because it sounds like she'd matter less.”
“I'll be her dad. I'll show up. I'll do everything I'm supposed to do, and I'll make damn sure she never feels like she got some lesser version of me because of how she was conceived or because her mother and I aren't together. But that relationship wouldn't erase this one.” His hand slides between us and settles low against my stomach. “And it wouldn't erase a baby we choose to make together someday.”
My breath catches.
“A baby we'd plan,” he continues. “A pregnancy we'd be excited about from the beginning.”
“I hate that I'm jealous of a fetus,” I mumble into his shirt.
He kisses the top of my head. “You're allowed to have complicated feelings.”
“I'd rather have normal ones.”
“These seem pretty normal. But I’ll admit I’ve do know anyone else in this particular situation.”
I lean back enough to look at him. “You're being suspiciously emotionally intelligent.”
“Therapy.”
His hand slides up my back and mine curls around the back of his neck.
When he pulls away, his forehead rests against mine.
“For the record,” he murmurs, “I wouldn't mind another boy either.”
“Me neither.”
