Page 14 of Unexpectingly Happily Ever After

I have no idea where she came from. Now all three of them are grouped around me, with expectant expressions on their face. J.B. shrugs.

″It won’t hurt them.”

I exhale audibly. Before I can change my mind, I pluck the last two remaining olives out of my martini glass and hand them to my daughter and son.

″Yum!” they cry in unison, popping the green fruit into their mouths.

″Do you ever think we’re not the best parents?” I ask J.B., slipping off the stool with glass in hand in case the kids want to lick the dregs of gin or something.

J.B. laughs. “We should write aWhat Not to Dofor parents. It’d be a bestseller.”

″We’d get charged for something,” I say gloomily.

Chapter Five

Subsequent children should be planned at regular intervals.

A Young Woman’s Guide to Raising Obedient Children

Dr. Francine Pascal Reid, (1943)

Later, after dinner and a movie and bath and bedtime, after I’ve fallen asleep twice trying to get through an episode ofScandal, J.B. curls up around me in bed.

″You’re a good momma, you know.” His hand slips under my old university T-shirt.

″You’re just saying that because you’re looking to get some action.”

″I’m saying it because it’s true,” he argues. “I’m grabbing your beautiful boob because I’d like some action.

″Oh, I suppose.” I give a mock sigh and roll overonto my back.

We’ve been married just over six years and I love that he still wants me. Of course, his schedule and the obstacles of having three little people capable of wandering into our room makes sexy time a bit of a challenge, but J.B. has shown his creativity more than once.

He leans over to kiss me, and I run my hand through his dark hair. The waves are mostly gone now, cut into a brutally short “grown-up” hairstyle. I miss his long hair.

I don’t miss the man-bun, even though I have to admit he kind of rocked it.

J.B. continues his exploration, and I’m thinking it’s time to get rid of my sleep shirt when he suddenly stops kissing me.

″You ever think about having another one?”

″Another breast?”

″Anotherbaby.”

I slide out from under him quicker than I did the time Lucy wandered into our bedroom while she was sleepwalking.

″What?Why?Why?” I demand from the far side of the bed. “And don’t even say the word–the last time I justwishedfor a baby and look what happened!”

″The kids are older now…They’re always talking about having a younger brother or sister.” J.B. reaches for me but I keep moving until I’m standing beside the bed, as far away from him without leaving the room.

″They don’t talk tomeabout that! And they should because it’smydecision.” I fold my arms across my chest, effectively telling J.B. sexytime is over without saying a word.

″It was your decision before,” he says mildly, sitting up. “I think I should have a say in it this time.”

″There’s nothis time! Or that time. There was one time,” I hold up a finger. “One time gettingpregnant. That’s it.”

″You’re forgetting the surrogacy,” J.B. points out.

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