Page 151 of Good For Me

River looks at me and I nod. “We decided Poppy for a girl.”

“Aw,” Rose, Violet, and Daisy chorus.

River glances at his mom. “And Harrison for a boy.”

Her eyes widen and she opens, then shuts her mouth. “Oh.”

“It was my grandfather’s name,” I tell her. “And obviously there’s the Harris connection with you. We thought it would be a nice way to honor both sides.”

She nods, blinking rapidly like she’s trying not to cry. “That’s…that’s very sweet.”

“I love it,” Daltrey says, wrapping an arm around her. “Cry baby,” I hear him tease softly into her hair, and she laughs, wiping at her eyes.

“This is so exciting!” Violet cries, clapping her hands. “It’s like, an actual person now.”

“What did you think it was before?” Ash asks. “A puppy?”

She flips him off behind her other hand so her parents don’t see. “I just mean, it feels so much more real now.” She grins. “Poppy or Harrison.”

River is grinning at me and my chest feels so full that I have to look away for fear it might explode. I never thought I’d get to have this—a family dinner filled with teasing and laughing and so much affection. I pretty much figured I’d spend most of my time on my own, maybe being an honorary aunt to Chris and Brie’s kids someday. Focused on work. Focused on my plan.

This reality is nothing like my plan. It’s so much better.

* * *

After dinner,I fall asleep pretty much as soon as River starts the Jeep. That’s been happening a lot lately—it seems I’ve entered the tired-all-the-damn-time phase of this pregnancy. He shakes me gently awake and I startle, looking around to see that it got much darker while I was out. And we’re not parked in front of the house.

“Why are we at Davie’s?” I ask, blinking up at the familiar building.

“Because I want to talk to you about something.”

Awareness prickles over me. There’s something serious in his tone, even as his blue eyes smile at me. He holds out a hand. “You trust me?”

I don’t even hesitate.

We walk around the building, the sight of police tape and do not enter signs making me feel sad. This building should be vibrant, full of people and music and laughter. Everything about the shadow of the place where I spent so much time feels wrong to me.

River leads me to the bench outside the back door, where employees would smoke on their break, and sits down, pulling me onto his lap. He wraps his long arms over my middle, resting his chin on my shoulder as we both look at the dark building.

“I’ve been thinking a lot this week,” he murmurs into my ear. “About what you said. About how you can see it now.”

I nod.

“I’ve been seeing some things, too.”

There’s a heavy feeling in the air, a buzz that tells me he’s nervous about this. So I don’t ask questions or pressure him, just wait for him to find his words.

“I fucking hate working at the label,” he finally says, and my stomach twists at the flatness of his tone.

“I know you do.”

“I would stay there forever if I thought it was what you or the baby needed,” he says, tightening his arms. “But I’ve been thinking lately that maybe it doesn’t have to be so black and white. Respectable job versus bartending. Responsible versus being happy.”

“I want you to be happy,” I tell him.

He kisses the side of my head and I snuggle in closer to him. “I want you to be happy, too.” He pauses. “Does the idea of getting your MBA make you happy?”

I open my mouth to respond, then close it. The automatic answer—yes, of course, this was always the plan, this is what I want—doesn’t come so easy.