“I don’t want them to thinkwe’renot doing good or something. So just tell them the truth.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m not gonna be mad. I’m just tired, and I want you to go.”
I study her face for a long moment, trying to read between the lines, but there’s nothing there. She’s being serious.
Finally, I nod.
“Okay,” I say softly. “But I’ll come back right afterward.”
“Okay.” She pulls the blanket tighter and lies back down.
I lean over to kiss her forehead. “I love you,” I murmur.
“Love you too.”
I linger a second longer, like maybe she’ll change her mind and want to come or want me to stay, but she doesn’t move or say anything.
* * *
I walk into the big house, lighter than before, but the question of where Megan is will surely hit any second.
“Hey, where’s Megan?” Mom asks from the sink.
Ella’s stirring something on the stove, and Karissa’s carrying a steaming-hot casserole dish to the table.
“It’s just me today,” I say, trying to act like that’s normal.
The room goes a little quieter. Ella glances back over her shoulder, Karissa slows as she unfolds a towel, and Mom slows as she stirs whatever’s on the stove.
“Is she okay?” Mom asks, her voice soft but serious.
The question hits harder than I expect. I swallow, feeling it settle heavy in my chest. “I don’t know,” I admit. “She’s… We’ve had a rough week.”
Mom nods once, not pushing. “Sorry to hear that,” she says, ending the conversation there. Ella and Karissa don’t say anything; one of them changes the subject to something about pot holders.
I take my usual seat at the table. Megan’s spot is still set beside mine. A napkin folded, silverware placed just right.
Once Dad says the prayer and food starts making its way around the table, the conversations pick up, but I can feel everyone’s eyes on me between bites. They’re wondering. They just don’t want to be the one to ask.
So I clear my throat and set my fork down, looking around at everyone. “We got our ninth negative pregnancy test last week.”
It’s quiet for a beat—too quiet. Then the soft coo of Gage breaks the silence, followed by one of the toddlers whacking a spoon against their tray.
Mom exhales slowly. “Oh, Mason…” she murmurs.
“Sorry to hear that,” Jesse says.
Ella looks to me. “That has to be hard.”
Addison nods. “Yeah, especially with all these babies, and another on the way.” She looks down at her own stomach that’s about ready to pop.
And then, leave it to Cody—mouth full of mashed potatoes—to break the silence. “Maybe you guys aren’t doin’ it right.”
“Cody!” Karissa gasps, smacking his arm.
The whole table erupts with groans, laughter, Mom saying his name in that warning tone, Dad shaking his head.
