Page 123 of Good For Me

“No, right here.” She pats the sand next to her. “I never want to leave this spot.”

“So your plan is to move my baby into a beach tent?”

She laughs, the sound the perfect complement to the crashing waves nearby. The sun is shining down on us, the beach isn’t too crowded, I got a solid hour of surfing in—only showing off for her a little bit. And now we’re stretched out on a beach blanket and I swear to God, I’ve never seen anything better than Jas’s skin glinting with water and sunlight.

Maybe the beach tent isn’t such a bad idea.

“How’s your book?” I ask, nudging the paperback.

She sighs happily. “So good. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve read something just for fun?”

If the books on our beside table are anything to go by, it’s been a long time. In addition to the text books stacked on the desk I moved into my room for her, the nightstand is full of paperbacks with titles likeGrowth at Any CostandEconomics of Small Business. Even in her down time she’s still reading that business crap.

I’m going to have to bring up the school situation again. Not today—I’m not messing with the perfection of this afternoon for anything. But soon. The idea of her spending her life doing something she clearly doesn’t want to do kills me.

“What about you?” she gestures to the phone I abandoned on the blanket. “Were you messing around on the internet or reading something?”

I run a hand through my wet hair, feeling sheepish. “I, uh, was on a baby name website.”

She looks tense for a brief moment before smiling—a reaction I’ve become entirely familiar with over the last few weeks. I know that Jas has committed to this baby, to keeping it and raising it with me. And I know she committed to trying when it comes to the two of us. But I also know that she’s still scared. She still has her doubts. Every so often I’ll see that fear come to the surface, but she always manages to rein it in.

“We should probably start talking about that, huh?” Her hands drifts down to her belly, an automatic gesture that has also become familiar to me. I lay my hand over hers, relishing in the warmth of her sun-kissed skin.

“We’ve got time. But the Littles have been sending me name ideas for weeks so I figured I’d start looking.”

She smiles as she lays back on the blanket, resting on her elbows. I lower myself to join her. “What are their top choices?”

“I think we had two votes for Emma. Two for Zane, if it’s a boy. One for Jovi.”

She chews her bottom lip. “I kind of like Jovi for a girl.”

“That was from Santana,” I explain. “It was almost her name. Reed and Paige named all their kids after rock stars, like my grandpa did with his boys. She thinks if we name it Jovi it will be like naming it after her.”

Jas laughs. “Let’s put it on the list.”

“Are we making a list then?”

She shrugs. “Why not?”

So I grab my phone as she settles herself more comfortably on the blanket. Once I’m lying beside her again, she twists a little so her head is resting on my chest. I run my free hand through her damp hair, unable to comprehend that this is my life right now.

“Okay,” I manage through a suddenly thick throat as I tap on my phone screen. “Jovi is officially on the list.”

“What else have the Littles suggested?”

“Violet likes Hyacinth, Posey, and Iris. Because they’re all flowers, of course.” I peer down at her. “I kind of like the idea of a flower name,” I admit. “It would match my sisters and Mom and you.”

“I like the idea of flowers,” she agrees. “But I’m not a huge fan of Hyacinth, Posey, or Iris.”

“Let’s google some flower names, then.”

We spend the next ten minutes adding to our girl name list. We decide we both really like Poppy for a flower name, and find a few more random names to add. When the silences between our ideas start getting long, we decide to switch to boy names.

“We could do the rock star thing,” she suggests, but doesn’t sound too enthused.

I laugh. “I kind of feel like my family has already used them all up.” I think. “Dylan? Hendrix?”

She doesn’t respond, but her scrunched up nose tells me all I need to know. “What are some names from the crap you listen to?” She smacks my leg. “Okay, maybe not a music theme. What about a family name?” I peer at her face, wondering how she’ll take the suggestion. “What about Huck, for your grandpa?”