“How far along?”
“How’re you feeling?”
“When’d you find out?”
“Did you cry?”
“Did Wesley cry?”
Addison beams beneath the attention, overwhelmed but glowing. “Five weeks,” she says. “We found out last weekend. I feel good so far. And yes, we both cried.” She points at Wesley without shame. “He cried a lot.”
Wesley shrugs, grin wide and unapologetic. “I was excited.”
The dinner continues, three conversations going on at once, the kids making a mess and asking for more of mom’s applesauce. Wesley keeps fielding dad jokes from Jesse and Cody like a champ.
But Megan’s quiet, minding her own, but also trying to smile and laugh when it’s warranted. I don’t think anyone but me can see it in her eyes.
That flicker of ache that shows up when joy and longing try to share the same seat.
Cody speaks up then, pulling me from my thoughts. “So, if the baby’s due in June, that means—”
“Nope,” Karissa says. “We’re not doing that math at the table.”
The room spins up in laughter. Megan’s even laughing, harder than she has all day. And for a moment I allow myself to breathe.
* * *
We get in my truck and the silence that stands between us is nauseating. It isn’t until I’m backing around that Megan leans her head back in the seat.
I grab her hand. “I know that was hard.”
And she loses it.
Not loud, just a quiet, broken cry she tries to swallow down, but it still shakes her whole body. She covers her mouth with her free hand, shoulders trembling.
I pull into our driveway and throw it in park.
“Come here.” My voice cracks a little.
I tug her across the console, guiding her into my arms. She goes willingly, pressing her face into my chest like she’s been waiting hours for a place to fall apart.
“I’m happy for them,” she chokes out. “I really am. I love them. I just, I didn’t expect it to hurt like that.”
“I know, baby.” I hold her tighter, rubbing her back. “No one prepares you for moments like that.”
She sniffles, voice barely audible. “I feel so guilty. What kind of person cries over somebody else’s blessing?”
“The human kind,” I say quietly.
She exhales a trembling breath against me, fingers curling into the front of my shirt.
“I’m trying so hard to leave it to God, Mason. I really am.”
“I know,” I whisper into her hair. “And God knows too.”
That gets her. She presses her face harder into me, letting out a small sob like the reminder split her wide open.
I kiss the top of her head. “We’ll get there,” I murmur. “One day at a time. One prayer at a time. We’ll get there.”
