“We have to leave in six minutes. Can we talk on the way?”
“Sure,” I say, maybe a little sharper than I mean to.
Her eyes narrow. “Did I do something?”
“It’s fine. We’ll talk on the way.” I head toward the bedroom, but her voice follows me.
“What? Cody.”
I stop, pull the test from my sweatshirt pocket, and hold it up.
“This?”
Her gaze flicks to it, then to me. She exhales slowly, like she’s already tired of this conversation.
“That’s nothing,” she says. “That’s just your wife overthinking.”
“Do you want another one?” My voice is softer now. “Were you hoping it was a yes?”
Her arms cross. “I don’t know.”
“We can talk about a baby, Karissa. I just…I thought you were a long way out from eventhat.”
“I know. I am. I just…I think I do want to have a baby with you too, you know? I want to give you your own flesh and blood.”
“Babe.” I breathe out, shaking my head. “My own or not, I’m gonna love any kid the same. You know that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
“Good. I don’t want you to feel like you have to have another baby just for me. I’m happy.”
“You don’t want another?”
“I’d love another. But I’m not gonna force you to carry a baby.” I let out a laugh, and she does too, the tension easing.
The drive to church is quiet, but not uncomfortable, I think we’re just in our own heads. Emma’s in the back, babbling to herself. I watch her little foot kicking the seat in the rearview mirror.
Church smells the same as it has since I was a kid. Old hymnals and fresh coffee. People smile and wave when they see us, some still making comments about having a newly married glow or something.
We slip into the pew, joining my family. Karissa settles Emma on her lap and the music starts a minute later, soft at first, the piano filling the room. Emma sits back against Karissa’s chest and chews on a rubber giraffe.
I keep my arm draped around her, thumb brushing her shoulder every now and then. My mind drifts to that test in the trash. No matter what the future holds—with or without more kids—I’ll be content. And I want her to know I mean that.
When Pastor Charlie starts to preach, we swap Emma. She leans back against me, and I press a kiss to the top of her head. If there’s anything I want in life, it’s to make sure she knows,without a shadow of a doubt, that with me, she’s always safe, loved, and wanted.
* * *
Wes and Addie are across from Karissa and me at the table. They’re not exactly radiating newly engaged bliss. She’s got stiff shoulders, and he’s focused way too hard on cutting his steak, jaw tight.
“So…” Jesse draws out, glancing between them. “When’s the wedding?”
Addison doesn’t look up. “June. We haven’t picked a date,” she mutters.
“Really?” Mason asks.
