“I know.”
“No, like… scared scared.” I tapped the notebook with my pen. “This isn’t running a department or planning a launch. This is a child. He’s five. He probably has favorite snacks and nightmares and little opinions. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I get frustrated? What if I’m too much? What if I’m not enough?”
Marlon listened without interrupting. That was one of the best things about him now.
He didn’t rush to shut me up, he let me unravel a little. Then he reached over and took the pen out of my hand because I had started clicking it too hard.
“Let me save you so much energy. You gonna mess up,” he said.
I stared at him. “Wow! That is not helping.”
“It’s true.”
“I need comfort, Marlon.”
“That is comfort.”
“No, that is the opposite.”
His eye twitched, then he pushed his glasses up with his palm heel.
“You’re gonna mess up,” he repeated. “So am I. We not perfect people. But you won’t abandon him.”
I went quiet.
“And when you get it wrong,” he continued, “you’ll fix it.”
I looked down at my notes again. “I want him to like me.”
“He might not at first.”
“I know, but I want him to.”
“That’s normal.”
“I already bought pajamas.”
He paused. “You did what?”
I gave him a guilty look. “They were cute.”
“We were told no big welcome basket.”
“Pajamas are not a basket.”
“Rabbit.”
“What? He needs clothes.”
“We don’t even know his size.”
“I guessed.”
He stared at me and I lifted my chin and smiled for the first time that morning. He shook his head, but there was warmth in his eyes. Now I was in a playful mood again.
I exhaled dramatically. “I can’t believe I let you baby-trap me without getting me pregnant. And before we get married!”
“Bunny, this was your idea,” he grinned, entertained by my theatrics. “You wanted a kid first, remember?”
