“We’re having another one,” Loops says happily.
“Man, that’s great!” I say excitedly and I mean it. I lean forward and give him a clumsy hug—as best we can with two kids in between us. Ashleigh plasters a smile across her face. “That’s amazing, Tara. So great for you! Congrats!”
“Thank you, Ashleigh.” Tara smiles appreciatively. “It’s a little sooner than we’d planned, but we’re just thrilled.”
“We want three or four so might as well crank ’em out quickly!” Loops announces and laughs. Tara laughs with her husband, her face beaming.
I laugh too, but it’s not nearly as merry. Ashleigh is just standing there with her overly bright smile.
“Well, happy New Year, guys!” I say, and they say it back, and we continue in different directions.
“Do you want spaghetti or penne?” Ashleigh asks as we approach the pasta aisle.
On the short walk home we keep our talk on anything but our encounter in the store with Loops and his pregnant wife. It’s almost painfully obvious we’re talking around it. When we get home, Ashleigh heads straight to the kitchen to cook up dinner and I deal with an overly tired, super cranky Conner.
He whines and cries the entire time no matter what I do. It’s frustrating but at least it takes my mind off how weird I feel being back in this house. This house Ashleigh and I painstakingly picked as our dream house—the place where we would live, laugh and love together as we grew old. Once again I miss the rental brownstone I used to dread. I miss Callie in the townhouse with me bringing it to life—filling it with delectable aromas and wild laughter. Ashleigh just doesn’t have the fire that Callie has. Ashleigh simply has a more restrained personality than Callie. I used to love how serene and mellow Ashleigh seemed, but now…well, I would sell my soul for a little Fleetwood Mac and errant cake batter all over the appliances.
“Ashleigh, do you have any snacks he can have?” I call from the family room, where Conner is whining and throwing his Duplo blocks at the wall. “I think he’s hungry.”
“Dinner is in a half hour! He has to wait.”
“Come on, just some carrot sticks or something,” I call back. “He’s exhausted and probably won’t even make it to dinner. Let’s give him something and settle him into bed.”
She turns to look at me from where she is stirring the pasta on the stove. “Fine. Fine. Give him a yogurt and some raw veggies. But now his sleep pattern will be messed up and you’ll be the one who has to get up with him tomorrow morning. I need my beauty sleep.”
She winks at me, grinning. I smile back and grab some baby carrots and a tiny yogurt cup out of the fridge. I try not to act shocked when I realize that her jovial comment means she expects me to be here in the morning.
Almost an hour later, I head back downstairs after putting Conner to sleep. Our dinner is warming in the oven and she frowns as she pulls it out.
“It’s probably ruined now,” she huffs as she brings it to the table. “Dammit!”
I start uncorking the wine and lean over and stare down at the steaks, Parmesan pasta and steamed broccoli. “It looks great. Don’t worry about it. I’m so hungry I’d eat a horse.”
She gives me a small smile but I can tell she’s still bothered by it. “I think he might be coming down with a cold. He’s been fussy for a few days.”
“He’ll be okay,” I reply and the cork comes out of the bottle of Merlot with a loud pop.
She stares at me as I fill her wineglass and then she suddenly reaches up and presses her lips to mine. The kiss shocks me. My instincts kick in and all I want to do is shove her away—jump back like I’ve been assaulted, like her lips are causing me physical pain. But she’s the mother of my only child, so I pull back and gently but firmly push her away.
“What was that for?” I can’t help but ask as we both sit down at the table across from each other.
“For being you,” she says simply. I reach for my wineglass and take a big sip.
“So Loops and Tara are having another one,” I say as I cut into my steak, which is a little tough. “Henry is barely one year old.”
Ashleigh shakes her head and frowns. “Tara is going to regret that. Conner was so much work once he was a toddler. I can’t imagine having an infant to breastfeed, change and burp and deal with on top of that.”
“I’m sure she’ll do fine,” I say confidently. “Lots of moms handle it.”
“Lots of moms have dads to help them. Tara doesn’t,” Ashleigh reminds me in a low voice and it makes my muscles tense. “Mitchell is gone all the time.”
She glances up at me and must see my disdain because her long face softens and she shrugs. “Maybe they’ll hire a nanny. That would help.”
“My mom raised all three of us and did just fine without a nanny,” I counter quietly and chew on a piece of broccoli, barely tasting it as I swallow it down. “My dad was out working on the blueberry farm sixteen hours a day and she did fine.”
Ashleigh says nothing. Her face is expressionless and the air in the kitchen is suddenly cool. But I’m not backing down. I know what I want from a relationship—from life—and I’m not ashamed of it. “Ashleigh, I want more kids.”
She puts down her fork and raises her face to me. “Fine.”
