I don’t say anything, just blink at it for a second longer than I should.
Karissa caught me looking but I cleared my throat and opened the door for them. I’m not gonna dare say how ridiculous I think it looks; she seemed way too excited about it.
Ella dresses Cora the same sometimes. I don’t get it. If the bow wasn’t almost bigger than their head, it’d be fine. Instead, they both look like they’re auditioning to be the star on top of a Christmas tree.
I buckle Emma in, double-check the chest clip like it’s second nature now, and shut the door to move on and help Karissa get in.
We drive to church in silence, the kind that feels comfortable. As if we’ve been doing life together so long that we don’t need to fill every moment with noise.
* * *
We walk into church to find the usual. People greeting one another, hugging in the foyer, kids running, coffee brewing somewhere nearby.
Emma’s sound asleep in her car seat, the bow still somehow in place, just as big and ridiculous as when we left. I’m half expecting someone to make a comment about it, and I’m already bracing myself to talk Karissa out of tears if they do.
Karissa walks beside me slowly. She’s been more on edge this morning.
Janet, Pastor Charlie’s wife, spots us right away and lights up as she makes her way over.
“Oh my goodness, she’s here!” she gushes. “Let me see that sweet baby.”
I turn the car seat so she can see her, while Karissa gives her a soft smile. “She’s sleeping at the moment.”
“Good!” she exclaims and takes another glance at her. “Congratulations! She’s just beautiful.”
Karissa nods. Her “thank you” is sweet. Her posture is polite. But I can feel the tension coming off her like static.
We get to the pew where my family is already seated and I set the car seat down in the aisle beside us. Karissa stays close, turning it inward, and hardly looks up from Emma.
The service begins, but Karissa doesn’t look relaxed. The moment Emma makes a sound, she’s quick to pull her from the car seat and pop a binky in her mouth. I get it—she doesn’t want to disrupt or feel like people are staring…even though Emma’s not the only baby in the room.
Afterward, people stop us again on the way out. More congratulations, jokes about sleepless nights and diaper changes. Karissa laughs with them all, thanks everyone, and never stops smiling.
When we get back in my truck, there’s no more smiling. She just twirls the hem of her dress between her fingers, staringdown. I sit back, letting the air blow for a second before speaking.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice steady.
“I didn’t like that.”
“Like what?”
“All the people. Too close to her.”
I glance over, my brows pull in. “What do you mean? You think someone was gonna snatch her?” I laugh.
Her head snaps toward me. “No! I don’t want her to get sick, Cody.”
I stare at her for a second, thinking she’s kidding, but she’s not. “She isn’t going to get sick, she’s—”
“She’s three weeks old,” she reminds me, as if I forgot.
“Karissa, nobody even touched her.”
“They were still too close.”
I blink. “They’re people from my church. Basically family. Not random strangers off the street.”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t have germs!” she snaps. “You don’t get it.”
