"Sorry." She grins. "But seriously—when is she planning to tell you?"
"When she's ready. I'm not pushing the subject."
Alex looks up from his clipboard. "That's very patient of you. I’m not sure I’d be so patient"
"I'm a very patient person. They kinda pound that into you in BUD/S."
"You once told me you counted down from a thousand by sevens during a hostage situation to stay calm."
"Your point?"
"Just noting the advanced patience techniques."
Sophie elbows him. "Be supportive."
"I am being supportive! I'm noting his patience!"
I grab my jacket. "I should go. Emma's probably awake by now."
"Tell her we're here if she needs anything," Sophie says. "And that my ficus can handle the wine. It's thriving, actually."
I leave Celtic Knot with my mind spinning. The "Emma is sick" rumor is spreading. Her brothers are worried. Sophie and Alex know but is keeping quiet. And Emma still hasn't told me officially about the pregnancy.
I need to make it easier for her. Create space where she feels safe talking to me so she tells me before the first day of kindergarten.
I stop by the bookstore on the way home—Jordan's still open late. The bell chimes when I enter.
"Miles!" Jordan looks up from her register, grinning. "Back again? That's three times this week."
"Wine review research," I say, heading for the wine section. I grab two professional journals I actually need. Then I makea loop through the pregnancy section and grab a couple of periodicals.
Jordan's still grinning when I check out. "These for you or Emma?"
"Me. Why?"
"No reason. Just noticed you've been in here a lot lately. Researching something specific?"
Everyone in this town is too observant.
"Just staying current with industry trends."
"Uh-huh." She bags the stuff. "Tell Emma I said hi."
I drive home planning dinner in my head. Something bland. Something that won't upset Emma's stomach. Something so boring it's practically medicinal.
Plain pasta it is.
Emma has the porch light on when I arrive, which means she's awake. She used to work until midnight. Now she's home by six, exhausted and stressed and carrying secrets.
I find her on the couch, laptop open but screen dark. She's staring at nothing.
"Hey." I set my bag down. "You eaten?"
She blinks, focusing on me. "Not yet."
"I'll make something."
"You don't have to?—"
