Page 10 of Curvy Girl and the Ex-Military Firefighter

"Well, come on then. Linda's pot roast will settle your stomach."

I catch Max's slight wince at the mention of food. He knows as well as I do that the smell alone might send me running back upstairs.

The dining room looks exactly as it has for every Sunday lunch of my life—the good plates gleaming on the white tablecloth, crystal glasses catching the sunlight. But everything feels different now as if the world has changed in the past hour.

"So," Aunt Linda begins as soon as we're seated, "where were we? Ah yes, Max was telling us about his intentions."

I nearly choke on my water. Max's hand finds my knee under the table, squeezing gently.

"Right," he says, his voice steadier than I expected. "As I was saying, I care deeply for Emma."

Uncle Jack passes the pot roast, and the smell hits me like a wave. I struggle to keep my expression neutral.

"And what about the future?" Aunt Linda persists. "Surely you've discussed it?"

Max and I exchange a quick glance. Oh, if she only knew what we'd just discussed upstairs.

"Actually," Max says, and my heart stops. He wouldn't. Would he? "We're taking things one day at a time."

"At your age?" Aunt Linda scoffs. "Emma's not getting any younger, you know. And those teacher's benefits are excellent for starting a family."

I set my fork down with a clatter. "Aunt Linda—"

"I'm just saying, dear. You're thirty, and—"

"Linda," Uncle Jack interrupts, "let them eat. The boy's probably starving after that long drive."

But Aunt Linda isn't finished.

"I just want to make sure he's serious about our Emma. My sister – God rest her soul – would want to know her daughter's being taken care of."

The mention of my mother makes my throat tight. What would she think about all this?

"Mrs. Rose," Max's voice cuts through my thoughts, "I promise you, Emma's happiness is my top priority."

"And children?" she presses. "Do you want children, Max?"

I stare at my plate, willing the nausea to subside. Max's hand tightens on my knee.

"Yes," he says simply. "When the time is right."

Uncle Jack leans forward. "And your dangerous job? How does that factor into family planning?"

"I've been thinking about taking a more administrative route," Max says, surprising me. This is the first I've heard about it, andI’m not even sure if it’s the truth or a lie: "Less time in burning buildings, you know?"

"Since when?" I turn to him, forgetting our audience.

He meets my eyes. "Since about twenty minutes ago."

The room goes quiet. I can feel Aunt Linda and Uncle Jack watching us, probably noting how Max hasn't looked away from me, how his hand hasn't left my knee.

"Well," Aunt Linda says after a moment, "at least you're thinking ahead. Now, Emma, dear, you've barely touched your food."

"I'm not very hungry," I manage, pushing my plate away slightly.

"Are you on a diet? You're a bit too curvy."

I blink back tears, my aunt's words hitting harder than usual. My hands drift unconsciously to my stomach. In a few months, I'll be more than just curvy. I'll be huge.

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