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I watch as Bex exclaims over Penny’s tattoo—her definitive commitment to Cooper, even if it’s not an engagement ring yet—and nearly cut myself with the knife. I hiss, snatching away my hand and gnawing on the inside of my cheek instead.
I’ve been ignoring the future, but right now, it’s staring me in the face.
Does Sebastian expect me to be here a couple years from now? I don’t know.
Does he deserve it? Definitely.
“What about kids?” Bex asks. “Down the line sometime, maybe?”
“For sure,” Penny says. “Cooper is into the idea of it. Although pregnancy sounds super weird. You were really throwing up all the time?”
“Yeah,” Bex says. “There were a couple of days where I couldn’t keep down anything but crackers. James called the doctor three times, he was so freaked out. But then it got better, and now I feel good. The second trimester is apparently a lot easier.”
“My brother’s wife said that as well,” I say. I remember way too much about her first pregnancy, even though I told everyone repeatedly that I didn’t care to learn the details. I love my nephews, but I didn’t need to hear the whole thirty-two-hour labor story.
Thirty. Two. Hours.Twins. Even the thought makes me want to shudder. Something tells me that Bex won’t appreciate it if I tell her that story.
“Aw, that means you’re already an aunt,” Bex says.
I scrape the celery into the salad bowl. “Yeah. I have two nephews, but I think my sister is going to start trying with her husband soon.”
“Imagine getting pregnant on purpose,” Bex says, laughing. “God, I wish I could have a glass of wine right now. Can I open a bottle for you two?”
* * *
James and Bex’shouse is incredible—while the chicken finished in the oven, Bex took us on a tour, and judging by the way she spoke about it, she had a lot of fun working with the interior designer—but the rooftop patio is something else. Strategically placed plants give it privacy, but there’s still a stunning view of the city. In one corner, there’s a set of comfortable outdoor chairs and a fire pit, and in another, an area to do yoga and lift weights out in the fresh air. Bex set the roomy table in the center earlier, and it looks beautiful laden with food and a centerpiece of bright, summery flowers. There must be a speaker system, because James turns on a playlist while Bex lights the candles.
“This is so pretty,” Penny says as we pass around the food. “Thank you again for having us.”
The food smells so good, my mouth starts watering the moment it’s on my plate. The crisp salad we helped Bex make, complete with a nice lemon-avocado dressing that I know Sebastian will want the recipe for, juicy roast chicken, and potatoes cooked right in the pan. Sebastian told me all about the wonders of chicken fat the other day, and I swear I’ve never seen him so excited. I felt like I was talking to a nicer, American version of Gordon Ramsey.
“Yeah, Bex, I’m impressed,” Sebastian says. “What’s in the salad dressing? I love the idea of using avocado for creaminess.”
Penny gives me a little smile. “You called it,” she whispers.
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “He’s so predictable sometimes.”
For a few minutes, Bex and Sebastian chat about cooking, and the rest of us just enjoy the meal. I nurse my glass of wine as I look out at the city lights, coming into focus now that night is falling.
“Hey, everyone,” Sebastian says. “I have an announcement.”
I snap my head up. “Babe?”
“And I’d wait, because I’m excited about the baby and I’m also a little afraid that Bex has a secretly intense pregnant side,” he continues, “but it’s time-sensitive, and I… I want to tell you all now, here, while we’re together in person.”
Oh my God.
“Sebastian,” I say, digging my elbow into his side. “Are you sure...”
“It’s okay,” Bex says. “We don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” James says, although there’s a frown on his face. Hopefully it’s one of concern, not annoyance. “We’re all family here. What’s up? Is everything okay?”
Once the words leave his mouth, he can’t take them back. Right now, his decision to quit baseball only exists to the two of us. Once his family gets involved, it’ll change the equation. However they react, whatever they think of his plan—that’s going to stick in his mind forever. I put my wineglass down, irrationally afraid I’m going to crack it from holding it too tightly.
Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged it. Maybe he should stick with baseball. Maybe there’s some part of him, even if he doesn’t recognize it, that’s doing this for me, and I’m ruining his life.
My mother is right. He deserves everything, and baseball can give him that. He’s giving up a steady path, however high-pressure it is, for one that’s a lot less certain. He might think he wants this now, but what about five years down the line? What about when I tell him I’m not sure about marriage and kids? What if this decision ends up being a compromise to be with me, when he can do way better anyway?
