Page 33 of Easton

It seems the past and the present are coming together in such a way as to create a most promising future.

A future I am all in on.

Easton is at morning practice with the team, and I’m visiting my mom at her new house, which, of course, used to be my old place.

She hasn’t made too many changes yet. At least nothing major. Except in the kitchen, where we’re currently seated at a new wooden table, having coffee.

Guess Mom didn’t like my sleek dark teakwood furniture. She’s also replaced most of the southwestern motif I had going in the kitchen with a flowery one.

That’s okay.

This is so Mom.

As I pick up my dainty rose-covered china cup to take a sip of coffee, I notice her peering over at me curiously.

“What?” I say, forgoing the drink and setting my cup down. “What’s going on in your head? You have that look.”

“What look would that be?” she asks innocently as she smoothes back her gray-streaked dark hair that’s up in a neat bun.

“The look that tells me you’re dying to ask me something,” I reply.

“Oh, okay.” She waves her hand around, acquiescing. “There’s no sense in lying. You’re right.”

“So, what’s the question?” I ask as I finally take a sip of coffee.

She really is dragging this out.

I realize why she was so hesitant when she blurts out, “When do you think you and Easton may have a baby?”

I almost spit out my coffee.

I was not expecting that.

After swallowing carefully, I clear my throat and say, “Wait, what? Are you serious? Where is this even coming from?”

She sniffs, as if my reaction is ridiculous. Then she says, “Well, you are married now.”

“For only, like, a little over two months!” I exclaim.

Mom shrugs. “I got pregnant with you when your dad and I had only been married for six weeks.”

I roll my eyes as I mumble, “And look how well that turned out.”

“Claire!” My mom is aghast. “Despite the fact that your father and I got divorced, I have no regrets. Our time together wasn’t all that bad. He was just more married to his work than to me. Besides…” She levels me with a smug look. “If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t even be here.”

Okay, she’s got me there. And really, I have no room to judge. Look at my crazy situation.

With a sigh, I say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound flippant or make light of your past with Dad.”

She accepts my apology, but truly, what am I even doing?

I can’t believe I’m having an argument with my mom about having a baby. I’m not even really married. I mean, I am, but only technically. If only Mom knew the truth—it’d be kind of hard to get pregnant when you don’t even sleep with your husband.

Though there are days I wish I did.

Stop.

You don’t.

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