Page 118 of Never Forever

“With what? An Exacto knife?”

“Exactly,” I said. I filled the filter with grounds I’d bought at the store and waited for the water to boil. Coffee was probably another thing I wasn’t supposed to have, but I promised myself I would only allow myself a few sips. “Hey, does this house have mold?”

“A ton of it.”

“So what do you do when you demo?”

“The guys will be wearing hazmat suits.”

I would risk it for myself. But not for the pea. I was going to have to leave my peaceful sanctuary.

“You have kids?” I asked him. I poured the coffee as soon as it percolated and curled my hands around the mug. I was holding it more than drinking it. That had to count for something.

“Yep. Two boys. Fourteen and twelve.”

“What’s that like?”

“Like living with the most extraordinary, fascinating dummies.”

I laughed. “Dummies?”

“Yep. They’re real dumb dumbs. Even the smart one. I’m told they grow out of it, but man, it’s hard to keep them alive some days.”

“And your wife?”

“What about her?”

Do you love her? Did you ever break her heart? Do you trust her? Does she trust you?

“Look, if this is a...” he waggled his eyebrows. “I have to tell you, I am happily married.”

“Oh my God, no! No! It’s not a…” I couldn’t wiggle my eyebrows. “I’m not flirting with you. I’m just…pregnant.”

Whoa. I said it. Out loud. It felt…good. Great, even.

“Hey!” he said with a smile. “Congratulations. I hope it’s not a boy.”

“Thanks,” I said with a laugh. “I’m just sorting through a bunch of stuff with the baby daddy and-”

He held up his hand. “Say no more. I’ll tell you this. I knocked my wife up on our first date and no one thought we’d make it, least of all her. But I knew what I wanted, and I just stood by her. All the time. Especially when it was hard.”

“That’s sweet.”

“It’s not sweet,” Jonah said with a crinkled brow. “It’s hard fucking work. It’s constant compromise and patience. It’s swallowing your anger and your pride and keeping your eye on the prize.”

“What’s the prize?” I asked.

“The rocking chairs, man. The grandkids and the traditions and the memories. Holding her hand on the front porch in side-by-side rocking chairs.”

“That sounds nice,” I said. And it did. It also sounded impossible from where I stood. Matt and I had bad memories, a tradition of hurting each other. There would be no rocking chairs.

“Hey, why’s that baby daddy of yours letting you live out here all alone?” Jonah asked.

“He’s not letting me do anything,” I said.

“Well, if you were my woman, you wouldn’t be out here once we open these walls.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. “Thanks Jonah.”

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