“Ace?” Max asks, never hearing the name before. “Who’s that?”
I watch his face when she announces, “He’s my husband.”
He scowls. “He’s your what?”
I squeeze his hand, trying to gain his attention. “Lighten up,” I whisper.
“We got married,” she says.
“How?” I ask, playing along.
“He gave me his credit card, that’s how.”
Mrs. Teezie recently placed new toys in the kitchen and house station in her classroom. I’ve heard all week about the new pretend credit cards and stove they’ve been loving.
“That’s not how it works.” Max frowns.
“I mean you gave me a credit card,” I mutter before laughing at his scowl.
Traffic crawls, but the car is warm, and any moment I spend with my family is a good one in my books.
“Mom, where’s my sister?”
I avoid Max’s eyes on me. “You don’t have one.”
Sailor contemplates this. “But what about the one in your belly?”
I sink further into the heated leather seat. The only thing in my belly is a cheeseburger. I know because I took a pregnancy test this morning.
“Sorry, babe, there’s no baby in my belly.” I’m not sure who I’m telling—Max or Sailor.
Max squeezes my hand. We’ve been trying to get pregnant the past year and it’s gotten us exactly nowhere.
There’s a photo on the mantel of Daisy and me. It’s from her twenty-third birthday and taken before we drank too much.
Sailor knows she has two moms. The one who gave birth to her and me.
I know she doesn’t quite understand and one day there will be more questions.
Because of Sailor, Daisy’s on my mind every day. Maybe I’m crazy, but I like to talk to her.
You’d be so proud.
Do you see the way her face lights up like that?
Can you believe she likes asparagus?
I straighten the photo on the mantel, padding around the house in my socks.
Sailor is in bed after she spoke for an hour on the phone with Lev. Seriously, she’ll place the phone down and play while the besotted grandpa stays on the line.
I can only imagine how it’ll go when she wants to start dating.
“Did she have trouble going down?” Max asks, removing his reading glasses. His socked feet are crossed at the ankle and he’s got on a pair of flannel sleep pants.
“You look like an old man.” I tumble beside him, wrapping my arms around him.
“You say the sweetest things.”