Page 136 of My Wife
Pierre cuffs my arm. “He’s married now. Of course he’s smiling.”
If only they knew it’s fake. Never mind. I am not an admirable man. Jessica was wrong. Coach too. They’re wrong about me. I add the sham marriage to my list of shame.
My phone beeps again and I read the message.
Jessica: Get excited for a new addition to the family when you get back.
Now I frown. That can’t be. First of all, I know for certain there aren’t any other possible children of mine out there. That’s one hundred percent impossible with my wife.
Restless, I take an overnight flight back to Omaha and get in early the next morning. I’ve been using all my away game travel time to improve my ASL with videos and practicing on the guys.
When I get home, Jessica and Mrs. Kirby stand in front of the Old Mill building. Elizabeth repeatedly jumps at something, but a bush blocks it. When I round the corner, Jessica holds the kid’s hand and the other grips a baby carriage.
I break out with a cold sweat.
She spots me immediately. “There he is!”
The kid rushes up to me, arms and hands moving so fast I can’t read his signs.
Mrs. Kirby looks me up and down, sniffs, and then scuffles away with Elizabeth who repeatedly looks over her shoulder and whines.
I hoist KJ into my arms and glance at the baby carriage, but the sunshade is down. “I’ll admit that I was surprised when this little bundle of joy came along, but there are multiple factors that would need to occur, including but not limited to conception, gestation—” I gesture between Jessica and me.
She tips her head back in laughter.
The kid signs and it’s very distinct. Basic. One of the first I retained.
Dog.
“You got a dog?”
Jessica pulls back the top of the carriage, revealing a puppy with big brown eyes and as much energy as the woman who brought him home. Lunging for me, he tries to get out of the dog stroller. Still holding the kid, I scoop him into my arms. The animal proceeds to lick my face and then my son’s.
“Jessica, what did you do?”
“I always wanted a dog.” She bites her lip. “I may have forgotten to mention that.”
“Seems like a pre-marriage conversation and a post-marriage decision to make together.”
“In that case, I’ve also always dreamed of having a house with a picket fence, two point five children—not half a child, but a dog. That would be the point-five part, in case it wasn’t clear.”
“Let’s just start with the dog. They’re a lot of work.”
“I know but they’re also a lot of fun and loyal.” She scratches the puppy by the ears.
I counter, “They eat a ton.”
“So do you.”
“They’re messy.”
“Let’s not talk about how you leave your socks outside the laundry basket.”
I grunt.
She takes the dog from my arms and says, “Puppers, meet your dog dad. He was rescued from an inhumane breeding operation and is a Bernese Mountain dog mix.”
“So he’ll be big?”
