I glanced at the house across the street again. What once would’ve been a risk and potentially disastrous undertaking with more potential for failure than success now seemed like raw possibility. Hope, in a way, that things weren’t already set in stone.
Jeanine slipped a spec sheet into a manila file folder. “I’ll give you two a moment.”
“It’s fine. Stay,” I said. I didn’t even want to have this argument alone with Bill, much less in front of someone else. Anything I said now, I might regret later. “Let’s finish the tour.”
“We already did the tour,” Bill said.
“Half an hour and you’re ready to make an offer?” I asked.
Jeanine nodded. “This place won’t be on the market long.”
Bill’s lips drew tight across his face, but he didn’t object.
“Let’s get more information then,” I said and walked out, leaving them both in thegreatnursery.
* * *
In a kitchen barely large enough for two people, where I definitely could not see the television or anywhere else into the apartment, I washed lettuce and did my best to distract myself from my thoughts while making dinner. As soon as Jeanine had dropped us off, Bill had turned on ESPN and hadn’t emerged from the living room for more than an hour.
Until now.
He entered the kitchen and went straight for the refrigerator. “About earlier.”
I had no desire to reopen the afternoon’s discussion, but I suspected he wouldn’t let this go. “Dinner will be ready soon,” I said. “Don’t snack.” I passed him a knife and motioned to two tomatoes. “Can you chop those?”
As he sliced into the first one, red juice seeped onto the cutting board. “What are you thinking?”
“About what?” I asked.
“Today.”
It wasn’t as if I didn’t know house hunting would open up a much larger discussion. But Bill and I had become pretty adept at navigating around touchy subjects. I opened the cabinet under the sink to toss romaine stalks into the trash.
“The house has a garbage disposal,” Bill pointed out. “Anda fancy dishwasher.”
“Our dishwasher is fine.”
“It barely fits anything.”
“I don’t mind handwashing the big stuff,” I said.
He stayed quiet as the knife hit the wood repeatedly. “It’s as close to perfect as it’s going to get,” he said. “We really can’t hesitate.”
“I said I’d think about it.”
“Don’t let the nursery comment scare you off. Just because you’re not ready today doesn’t mean you won’t be soon.”
“When?” I asked. “What’s soon to you?”
“I don’t know. Six months?”
My lungs emptied. Sixmonths? I felt even less ready today than I had six monthsago. “I’m in the same place I was when we last discussed this,” I said, tearing up the lettuce. “And especially now, if I get this promotion—honey, I just don’t feel like it’s the right time.”
“The timing might never feel right. It’s the same with the house. You just have to do it. The rest will come.”
I stiffened. It wasn’t just that I didn’t feel ready . . . I didn’twantit. And I worried that I never would. Before Bill had proposed, when he and I would talk about our future, I’d assured him I’d get there one day. That there’d be a right time for children. But did that mean I owed it to him?
“I need more time,” I said.
