He rinsed the sink carefully. “I make more money doing what I do now. Maybe when the time is right...”
“Maybe the time is now,” I suggested.
He didn’t say anything.
“When I went back to work, you said it wasn’t about the money,” I reminded him.
“It’s not. As long as you’re happy, that’s what matters to me.”
“Exactly.” I watched his reflection. “John, are you happy at the dealership?”
A muscle bunched in his jaw. We could say so much without words. Neither one of us found it easy to talk about our feelings. I’d been proud of our unspoken understanding, pleased that we didn’t fight. But sometimes words were necessary. I tried again. “If it weren’t for the money, would you go back to teaching?”
His shrug belied the tension in his shoulders. “I guess I’d consider it.”
My own muscles relaxed. I felt like he’d given me another present—his trust, his dreams. “I could run the numbers,” I offered. “Look at the budget with both our incomes.”
He smiled slightly. “Taking this partners thing seriously, aren’t you?”
A little glow started in my chest. “Yes.”
He nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
Of course he needed time to mull it over. He did everything carefully, deliberately, my John. Except for falling in love with me.
“I love you,” I announced suddenly.
He held my gaze in the mirror. “I love you, too.”
I closed the distance between us, sliding my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his broad, smooth back. “I mean, I really love you.”
“Good to know. Because you’re everything to me.” His voice was husky. His hands covered mine, clasped together over his stomach. “I get that we’re not trying for another baby right now. But you want to fool around?”
The glow spread. I smiled against his back. “I’d love to.”
CHAPTER 27
Jo
Iwas still pregnant in the morning. First I threw up, and then (since I was in the bathroom anyway) I peed on the second stick. Two lines. So after I downed tea and toast and fed the goats, I drove to the rehab center. I had never in my entire life sought my mother’s advice or approval. I had always been Daddy’s girl. But I needed her now.
When I got there, my mother was down the hall in physical therapy. I sat in the room’s one chair to wait for her.
“Honey?”
I jerked awake. My mother was standing—standing!—in front of me, the aide at her side. The hated port was still in Mom’s arm, but she was no longer trailing an IV bag and a pole. I blinked. “You’re up!”
My mother nodded. “Up and walking.”
“Thirty minutes today,” the aide, Keisha, said.
I watched as she helped my mother maneuver to the bed, raising the head so she could sit upright.
“I saw the caseworker yesterday,” my mother said. “I’m being discharged in a week.”
I looked at Keisha. “So soon?”
Keisha tucked the bed control where Mom could reach it. “She’s doing great.”
