I was halfway done with my sandwich half when a couple staggered into the office, both yawning. The guy carried a car seat with a sleeping infant who couldn’t have been older than a week or two. “Zombies” was the term that came to my mind as they shuffled up to the check-in desk before dragging themselves toward a free row of chairs and collapsing into them. The baby was asleep because he or she was tired from keeping the parents up all night. I didn’t think the mom had finished her yawn before she fell asleep with her head draped across her husband’s shoulder.
I nudged Jesse’s leg with mine and indicated the new family. “That’s what we have to look forward to in a few short months. You up for it?” I had to wrestle with my smile when the man broke into a snore chorus that sounded like he was wrestling with an unruly chainsaw.
I guessed Jesse hadn’t noticed them when they’d first staggered in, because when his gaze lifted to them, he studied the family as if he was seeing them for the first time. For a moment, the corners of his eyes ironed out. That almost peaceful expression didn’t last long though. Not even long enough for me to hope that once this was all over, that look would return.
“I would love to look forward to that actually,” he said softly, studying them as though he wasn’t just seeing the big picture but the fine details too. The things most people missed when they looked at others.
I didn’t miss his use of the word would, as if being exhausted and sporting two different-colored socks like the dad camped out in a waiting room wasn’t a guarantee for us . . . but I also knew better than to call him on it. I’d spent two months calling him out on those kinds of comments before realizing that he might retract his statement and try to get me to believe that wasn’t how he meant it, but all it took was one look in his eyes to find the truth. Jesse was entitled to his worries, as I was entitled to mine. I just did a better job of hiding mine than he did his, and that was why he hadn’t noticed. I was glad he hadn’t noticed because here was the thing—I worried about him, but he was already so worried about me that if he knew I was nearing freak-out zones like he was, it would only make his anxiety chart new levels of unhealthy. So I kept my worries to myself.
Jesse had been the strong one for me in so many things. I could return the favor this time.
“So?” I checked the time on the clock behind the reception desk for the who-knew-what-number-of-times since we’d arrived almost an hour ago. “Since it would appear Dr. Stuart is delivering yet another baby at this month’s scheduled appointment time, have your views on the whole name thing changed? We’ve got time to kill and nothing to fill it with unless you want to read about how to make the perfect four-layer cake.” I eyed the magazine sitting on one of the chairs beside us.
Jesse shook his head. “No.” It kept shaking. “I’m not ready to go over names, Rowen. I’m sorry. Just . . . not yet.” His bouncing leg froze when I suggested the name thing, but it had just restarted and was moving double-time.
“You’ve been saying that since I dropped that dictionary-sized baby name book in front of you right after finding out I was pregnant. When do you think you’ll be ready?”
He set his half-eaten sandwich on his leg. “I don’t know. I just know I’m not ready right this minute.”
“We’re running out of minutes before this little thing in my stomach will be out of said stomach, and it would be nice if we had a few names to choose from before we leave the hospital with Baby Sterling-Walker on the birth certificate.” I stuffed what was left of the sandwich back in the baggie. We’d choked down enough. “Although the upside to that name is that one day we might get to experience some strapping young rebel marching up to us and saying, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” before whisking her away to a stage and iconic eighties movie glory.”
Jesse wasn’t smiling. Not even a hint of one. Either he’d totally missed my Jennifer-Garner-meets-Patrick-Swayze reference or he didn’t find it funny. At least I did.
“Come on, Jesse. What is it? What’s the thing about the names that’s so hard for you?”
His gaze flickered to my stomach, making the lines at the corners of his eyes etch deeper. “It’s just too much like . . . I don’t know, inviting tragedy or something.” He swallowed, not blinking as he studied my stomach. “Talking about names before it’s here or before we know what’s going to happen . . .” He let the silence fill in the dot, dot, dot because neither of us needed to hear the words. They played on repeat through our minds every day. “If we decide on a name and start referring to it by name, then . . .” He paused to swallow. “Then . . .” It didn’t look like any number of swallows could get him past the ball sitting in his throat.
“Then what you’re so terrified of happening does, and you don’t just lose a Rowen but you lose a Michael or a Michelle too?” I twisted in my seat to face him, holding tightly to his hand.
He couldn’t look at me, he couldn’t make words come to the surface, but he nodded.
“That’s why you don’t want to know the gender of the baby, isn’t it? Because the less you know about it, the less hard it will be if . . . you know?”
He was still staring at the ground, but I didn’t miss the flash that tore through his eyes, almost as if he was ready to tear whatever dared threaten his family’s lives limb from limb. “Nothing would make that any less hard. Nothing.” Letting go of my hand, he clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward in his chair.