Page 51 of Books and Hookups

“Yeah. I don’t have any of the symptoms my doctor asked about. I’m good. Except I’m hungry all the time.” She put a hand over her stomach.

“Good thing you live over a bar,” I said right as Nico brought over Lucie’s burger. Lucie thanked him and he walked away. “My kitchen is pretty well stocked. You could come down if you ever need a snack.”

“Yeah, right.” She didn’t touch her burger. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the envelope. “You gonna look?”

I nodded. Taking a deep breath, I upended the envelope. A slip of paper fluttered onto the table. I lifted it. “Girl.”

Lucie slumped back against the cracked vinyl cushion. “Girl.”

“What, you wanted a boy?”

“No. I just hadn’t thought about her gender being, you know, real. She’s going to have to fight for everything she gets in this world. I’m going to have to talk to her about periods and the pink tax. She’s going to have to carry a whistle or pepper spray, take self-defense classes, call someone when she’s walking alone at night?—”

Lucie’s eyes were getting big and wild, so I interrupted her. “But there are great things about girls too. I have two sisters. I used to braid their hair. And when I had a few extra bucks, I’d buy them the fruit-scented lip gloss they liked. And one day, she could be a mother too.” Thinking about my mother, I added, “Women are strong.”

“We have to be.” She cut her burger in half and shoved one half into her mouth. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and muttered, “’om make a goo bur’er.”

“Norm’s the best,” I agreed.

She chewed and swallowed. “So, my friend Savannah has been going with me to my doctor visits. And she’s happy to do it. But if you, like, wanted to go with me, that’d be okay.”

“You’re inviting me to your doctor appointments?” My mind raced ahead. “Do you think I could be in the delivery room too?”

Lucie’s shoulders tensed toward her ears. I was afraid I’d gone too far, too fast. She pulled a few napkins from the dispenser and wiped her hands. “If you want. You’re the baby’s father. I think you should be among the first to meet it—her.”

“I’d love that. All of it. The doctor’s appointments and the delivery room. Let me know when, and I’ll get someone to cover my shifts. When the baby comes, I’ll drive you to the hospital.” We were doing this. We’d be partners. Not strangers who shared custody. Not a couple, but two people who’d share some aspects of our lives with each other because we shared responsibility for another human. There was pressure on my fingers, and I looked down. Somehow, I was clutching her hand.

She squeezed my hand again. “Okay.”

When I looked up into her eyes, something strange happened. There was a swoop in my belly like the time Leo and I pretended we were superheroes and jumped from the garage roof. Words bubbled to my lips that I couldn’t have stopped if I’d tried.

“My aunt and uncle’s anniversary party is tomorrow. Come with me and meet my family?” The second the words flew out of my mouth, I wanted to hide my face. She’d never want to go to a party and meet a hundred nosy, loud Italian Americans. Not in a million?—

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I searched her face. Was she caught up in the moment too? Would she regret it later? Probably. And I’d let her out of it if she did. But she’d agreed to go with me.

The customers at the bar whooped. The Giants must have scored again. But it felt like they were cheering for me.

19

Thirty-what?

I’ll never be the kind of person who gets awards or headlines. My legacy is my kids’ security, their happiness, and the strength I show them every day. I proved you can be a mother, a provider, and a fighter all at once. That’s what I hope they remember about me.

Carrie Carbone, dental assistant and mother of five

LUCIE

Istared through the window of Danny’s Toyota at the giant cross on top of the modern building. “You brought me to church?”

“We aren’t going to Mass,” he said. “The church has a hall we rent for family gatherings. It’s bigger than my aunt and uncle’s place.”

I got out of the car. Why had I thought meeting his family was a good idea? “I’m an atheist.”

“Then you’ll probably flame up as you cross the threshold,” he said dryly.

“I’m serious,” I said. “Are you religious?”

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