Page 137 of Pregnant in Plaid
Later, when we're packing up, Gage pulls me aside. "You're really doing this?"
"Getting married? Yeah."
"You're sure?"
"More sure than I've been about anything." I look over at Patrice, who's trying to wrestle Brooklyn back into her sunglasses. "She's it for me. Always has been. Even when I was too stupid to realize it."
"You were pretty stupid," Gage agrees.
"Thanks for the support."
"That's what best friends are for. Calling you on your bullshit and standing beside you anyway."
"Philosophical today."
"Tessa's pregnant. I'm emotional." He claps me on the shoulder. "But I'm happy for you. Both of you. You're good together."
"We are."
"And Brooklyn's lucky to have you as parents."
"We're lucky to have her."
We load up the trucks—Patrice insisting on reorganizing the diaper bag because apparently I packed it wrong—and head home. Brooklyn falls asleep in her car seat halfway back, and when we pull into the cabin's driveway, Patrice turns to me.
"Did we really just get engaged?" she asks.
"Pretty sure."
"That was the weirdest engagement ever."
"We do everything weird. Why start being normal now?"
She laughs, and it sounds like home. "Fair point."
We carry Brooklyn inside—still sleeping, thank god—and get her into her crib without waking her, which is basically a miracle. The cabin is quiet. Peaceful. Ours.
"Fall wedding," Patrice says, leaning against me in the doorway of Brooklyn's room.
"October," I suggest. "The aspens will be golden."
"October works." She looks at Brooklyn sleeping. "More kids someday though."
"More kids someday," I agree.
"But not yet."
"God, no. Not yet. One is plenty." I glance at the sweet potato still stuck to my shirt. "More than plenty."
From her crib, Brooklyn makes a sound like she's disagreeing with us in her sleep.
"She's going to be a handful," Patrice says.
"She already is."
"Worth it though."
"Absolutely worth it."
