Page 302 of What We Brave
"Doesn't matter. We're okay either way."
She stares up at me. Her eyes are wet. Not crying. Getting there.
"If it's positive—" Reid starts.
"Then it's positive," I say. "And we deal with it."
"Right. Yeah. We deal with it." Reid rakes his hands through his hair again. It's standing straight up now. "We should — I mean, if it is — we'd need to tell David and Mary."
Laine makes a sound. Half laugh, half groan. "My mother is going to knit booties. She's going to knit booties and cry and start planning a baptism, and my father is going to realize his unmarried daughter is having a baby with two men she's not married to?—"
"So we get married." Reid stops pacing. Points at her. "We get married."
"Towho, Reid?" She throws her hands up. "Which one of you? I can't marry both of you. Oregon has opinions about that."
"Okay. Logistics." The pacing resumes. Faster. "I marry you. Blake adopts. No — Blake marries you, better tax bracket. I'll be the?—"
"The what?" Laine's voice climbs. "The fun uncle?"
"I was going to say legal guardian?—"
"Nobody is marrying anybody right now." I don't raise my voice. Don't need to. They both stop and look at me. "Your parents are going to be fine."
"You don't know that."
"Your mom has been texting me Pinterest links for cribs for three weeks, Laine. With heart emojis. And little star stickers." I pull out my phone, hold it up. Mary Mitchell has my number saved with a smiley face next to it. She called me 'hon' last Tuesday.Hon.I shake my head, and I can't help the grin. "That woman did a complete one-eighty on me, thank fuck. And apparently she has babies on the brain."
Silence.
Reid blinks. "She texts you?"
"All the time. Last week she sent me a recipe for banana bread and told me to make sure you eat more vegetables." The banana bread was pretty good. Every time I think about her taking a crack at making it, I laugh. My guess it came out black on top and gooey in the middle.
"I eat vegetables."
"You're eating dry Cheerios for dinner."
"Cheerios are oats. Oats are a grain. Grains are?—"
"Not vegetables."
Laine's staring at me. "My mother is sending you Pinterest links. For cribs."
"Your mother and I text. We're past the awkward stage. She asks how my back is. I ask about her garden." I keep my thumbs moving across Laine's collarbones. Slow. Steady. "David told me in Guatemala he'd be there when things got heavy. That was the deal. We're not hiding."
"The marriage thing?—"
"We'll figure it out. All of it. Paperwork, logistics, whatever." I meanit. "But right now none of that matters until we know what we're dealing with."
She nods. Small. Tight.
"Go pee," I say.
She grabs the box off the island and heads for the bathroom. Reid and I are right behind her.
She turns in the doorway. "I need thirty seconds alone."
"I'm not waiting in the hall." Reid pushes past her, steps into the bathroom, sits on the edge of the tub. Crosses his arms.
