Page 158

“You don't have to go.”

“Well, she got pissed when I told her that.”

“I'm sure.”

“She said it's my baby, I should want to be there.”

I think about that.

“I can understand why she'd want you there.”

He gives me a look.

“I said I understand why she'd want it. Not that I think you should go.”

“She thinks I'm being an asshole.”

“Most people think you're an asshole.”

His mouth twitches.

I cross the two steps to him and put my hands on his chest, feeling his muscles tense under his shirt. “I think you're right that going could send mixed messages,” I say. “Especially to her. If you're trying to establish that you're going to co-parent but you aren't her partner, showing up to something that's usually very couple-y could muddy that.”

“Exactly.”

“But I also think she's allowed to have it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine.”

I smile. “Look at us compromising.”

And then the other part hits me.

I don't want it to be a girl.

Somewhere in my head, for years, there's been this picture.

Simon holding a little girl.

Little dresses and hair bows and Simon pretending he's annoyed while letting her paint his nails.

Simon calling her princess.

Me handing him our daughter for the first time.

His first baby girl.

Mine too.

Ours.

My chest aches.

She'd take that from me.