“I fell asleep on the couch, so I guess. But that’s okay. Is everything alright? Is Naomi okay?” she asks.
I smile to myself, the question already answered.
“I wanted to talk to you about something, but it can wait. Go to sleep, I’m sure you’re exhausted,” I tell her.
She sighs. “Well, I’m awake now, and you called for a reason,” she says.
“How was your day?” I ask her.
“Busy, I started some arrangements for the lookbook I told you about and did my best to photograph them because I don’t have a dime to spend on a photographer. Then I called another venue, and they told me their vendor list was full. I couldn’t even convince them to put me on their back up,” she says.
The defeat in her voice makes me want to take it away and carry the burden myself so she won’t have to. But this is something I can’t change for her, and I hate it.
“I’m sorry.”
She sighs. “Me too, but I’ll keep trying. I’m nothing if not tenacious.”
I chuckle, settling back into the cushions. “I’ve noticed.”
“Cooper?” she says.
“Hmm?”
“Not that I don’t like talking to you, but why did you call?”
I puff out a breath, feeling like an idiot for even questioning my instincts when it comes to her.
“Is wanting to hear your voice not good enough?” I ask her.
She’s silent on the other end, and I wonder if maybe that isn’t enough.
“I like hearing your voice too,” she says.
“Why does it sound like you’re scared?”
“Because I am,” she whispers.
“Remember, one day at a time, stubborn. We’re not thinking about next week right now.”
“I know,” she sighs.
I rub my face and decide I should ask her, even though I already know the answer. “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about Naomi.”
“Okay, what about her?” she asks carefully.
I puff out a breath, feeling stupid for even talking to her about this. “I wanted to ask how you feel about me having a kid.”
“I, uh, don’t feel any type of way,” she says.
“Mae, tell me, please. I need — please,” I beg.
“Why?” she whispers.
I grit my teeth trying to come up with the right words. This conversation should be face to face, but I’m the one who called.
“I need to know,” I rasp.
“I love it,” she says.
