Page 155 of The Difference Between

“I had my bloodwork last week and exam yesterday,” I say, choking on my next sip. I’ll be sure to tell my unborn child about the measures it took to bring them life. “And I meet with the doctor next week to go over everything. And then . . .”

With this, Mom’s in the kitchen. “Then what? You finally put an end to this nonsense?”

Probably, but she doesn’t need to know that. I’m not committing myself into a corner until I know all the options.

“It’s not nonsense that I’m forty and don’t want to be an old maid like Rue when I’m pregnant.”

Rue scoffs. “Because forty is so much younger than forty-two.” She rolls her eyes. “Numbers, so tricky.”

“And maybe I don’t want to wait,” I add. “I’m ready now, I want this, and—” All three of them open their mouths to argue but I talk over them. “And it’s not about work. I want a baby. You all have babies, and I’m a hell of a lot better equipped than you.” They mumble their objections. “And,” I say louder, “I can admit that I care about Gavin. I might even—” They inch forward in anticipation. “Really like him. But I have to be pragmatic. I can’t just throw one plan away because he’s . . .”

“Perfect for you,” Mom finishes, putting a kettle on the stove.

I roll my shoulders. “I was going to say unexpected.”

“And you love him,” Remy adds.

“Will you stop saying that?” I snap. “I’ve barely known him two months, I can’t love him in that amount of time. Statistically speaking it takes women three months to fall in love.”

Remy pours herself another cup of coffee. “Way to make romance sterile.”

“Well maybe if you would have—” She stills, and I swallow my Darren-driven snark. “It doesn’t make sense.”

The kettle screams as Mom says, “Rue fell in love with Nash in about three minutes.”

Rue nods. “A little longer than that, but not much.”

“I’ve always wanted to model my love life after the woman who lied about her husband dying for nearly a decade.”

Rue throws a grape at me. “Bitch.”

“You haven’t only known him two months,” Mom corrects, settling in a chair next to me. “You knew him when you were kids.”

“Gross, Mom.” I make a face. “Him being seven doesn’t count as knowing him. That makes me sound like a freak.”

Mom bats her hand at my semantics and bobs her tea bag in the hot water.

“Not that you’re asking me,” Remy says, “but I think you should wait. I think you and Gavin are perfect—you smile more now than you have the first forty years of your life.” I can’t argue, it’s practically permanent. “And you might be in denial about loving him, but he loves you. And he’s not a man with commitment issues. You tell him you want a baby—” Her brows raise. “I’d bet every -gasm I can think of that he’d give you one ASAP.”

I do not tell them he already has nor that I’ve imagined what it looks like if he did.

Him in the hospital, holding my hand—I bet he’d flip that hat backward as I scream obscenities and push his future son or daughter into the world. Part of me would want it to be a boy, just to see him with a son.

I can see him singing songs and telling bad jokes with a baby in his arms. See me leaning against him on the couch as Addie recites every line from Overboard and a baby sleeps on my chest.

I can see it all. With him.

It sends warmth rising from my womb to my ribs.

“Well—” I raise my glass of beet juice. “It’s a good thing I didn’t ask your opinion.”

Forty-Six

I’ve always thought I hated surprises, but it turns out, what I really hate is being surprised. As I park the Volkswagen in a patch of grass and watch Gavin and Addie try to make sense of where we are, I am delighted by their confusion and the surprise that awaits them. I’ve been working on this appointment for weeks.

“A farm?” Gavin asks, peering through the windshield. “Is this the place where the guy kept talking to the cow?”

At my confused frown, he smirks. “It was udder nonsense.”