Page 62 of Love is a Game

Pen stares at the dozen spiral notebook pages taped to the wall and narrows her brown eyes.

“Nope. That doesn’t hold up. Sure, kids might increase stress. But they bring unconditional love too, which boosts natural endorphins. Those points cancel each other out.”

I cross my arms. “Depends on the kid. You might get an angelic, sweet one or a real little devil-child. Then what?”

“So, not only am I incapable of raising a kid, but I’m also destined to birth Satan’s spawn? Fantastic, Tuck. Thanks.”

“Again—never said ‘incapable’. Just pointing out facts.”

She gestures toward my notes. “Facts? This is every worst-case scenario that could befall a pregnant woman. I get that it’s not a walk in the park. That doesn’t matter, Tuck. I want a child.”

“Oh yeah?” I tap the Sharpie against my palm. “And what about the planet? Global warming? Rainforests?”

She blinks. “What?”

“You’re always preaching sustainability: your business mission, riding a bicycle, cutting back on flights to reduce carbon emissions. What about the fact that there are already eight billion people on this planet? Isn’t bringing another one into the mix kind of…hypocritical?”

Her mouth tightens. “Right. Well, how about this—” She takes a breath. “My mom died at fifty-five. That’s one less human using resources. So I’m in credit.”

I let out a low whistle. “Damn. Forgot how ruthless you are in a debate.”

She shrugs. “Besides, I might not conceive. Maybe I’ll adopt. Safe Haven works with reputable agencies for surrendered babies. Maybe that’s what I want to do.”

I pull out the chair from her desk and sink into it.

“Seriously, Pen? Despite everything it takes? Housing, food, clothes, doctor’s visits, daycare, school. It’s car seats, strollers, sleepless nights, and figuring out who picks them up when they’re sick. It’s not just about you. It’s about whether your life is built for this.”

She picks at a fingernail, avoiding my eyes.

“Your job, your finances, your support system. Who’s in your corner when it gets hard? Because it will get hard. And who will you turn to then? You can’t just figure it out after the fact.”

She stays silent.

I sigh. “So, despite all this, you still want a baby?”

Pen wraps her arms around her knees and nods. “I still want a baby.”

I rub the back of my neck. “Right. So we’re back where we started. The baby isn’t up for debate. Just the how—as inwho’sinvolved.”

“I guess so.”

I stubbornly point at my notes on the wall. “Then let’s revisit the scenario. The resources—”

“I can read, Tuck. I get your points, okay?”

“Then tally the points, Pen!” I jump up, streaking a line under the “Against” column. “What does this all add up to? You need help. And I want to help.”

She groans. “Do you know what time it is?”

I ignore that. I’m too focused on getting these factors into her head.

“Time to get real. Admit that if you’re doing this, you need support. Your whole life will change, Pen. For Christ’s sake, let me in.”

“I thought I was the inebriated one. Are you sure you didn’t have too many of Keith’s margarita specials?” She yawns, pulling the covers up. “You and me, Tuck. Chalk and cheese. Polar opposites. Earth and air…fire and water? I don’t know…neeeed sleeeep.”

I walk to the desk and put the Sharpie down.

She’s right. What hope did I have of convincing her tonight?

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