Page 9 of Family Like This

“Fair enough,” I mumble as I take a massive bite of the cheeseburger.

“I may have gotten a couple of extra burgers, too. In case you’re extra hungry.”

“Thanks.” My mouth is still full, so it sounds more like “Franks” but whatever.

He kisses my cheek, then grabs the grocery bag. “I’ll make your salad. Do you have mixing bowls?”

“Bottom, next to the oven,” I mumble, shoving more cheeseburger in my face. I’m not sure if it’s hormones, hunger, or that it’s my favorite comfort food, but I swear nothing has ever tasted this good.

“I’ll take your barely discernible words as a sign you like the food.” He grins at me from the kitchen. He has a perfect smile. His teeth are impossibly straight. Even when he doesn’t show his teeth and does that smolder thing, he still looks unbelievably perfect. He seriously looks like he was crafted by the gods rather than being born.

Oh boy. I must be getting delusional in my ravenously hungry state. On to burger number two.

“It’s perfect. Thank you for getting it.” Then my brow furrows. “How did you get it? Your car is still here and mine’s at the shop.”

“I borrowed Mackie’s. She’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye as he pours the dressing over the salad. Then he grabs two forks and walks over to the couch.

“I don’t want to piss you off, but I told Mackie and my friends. They know not to tell anyone else yet, though.”

I stare at him for a moment. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mhm.” I reach for the salad, but he pulls it away.

“No. Say what’s on your mind. I watched Rae and Aaron refuse to communicate for fucking years. I have a therapist for a mother. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt how important communication is, so talk to me.”

I inhale sharply at that. People tell you to watch for red flags in a relationship. Well, Miles is over here throwing up green flag after green flag. Kind, attentive, respects his mother, has meaningful, long-lasting relationships with his friends, and wants to communicate openly.

Is he a unicorn?

I take another deep breath, then say the words I don’t want to think. “What if I miscarry?”

“Then we’ll have the best support system in the world.”

That’s it. Not a second fucking thought. Just we’ll be supported. It’s almost unfathomable for me. Until I met Dani last year, I’d been alone since my mom’s health went downhill. I spent almost two years with no one else to rely on. Then I met Dani, and I knew I’d found my best friend. She gets me. I get her. We don’t have to try. Our friendship is natural, and I’m grateful for it every day, but Miles and his friends? They’re a whole different world. This insanely close-knit group of people who choose each other. It’s incredible and a little intimidating if I’m honest.

“Okay.” It’s a terrible one-word sentence, but I don’t know what else to say. People like to say that going through an unexpected hard thing is like being thrown in the deep end, but that’s pretty tame in comparison. It’s like being thrown into the middle of a whitewater rafting adventure, but everyone else has a boat except for you.

“I’m sorry.” His deep voice drops impossibly low with the words as he looks at me tentatively.

“It’s okay that you told them,” I clarify. “I’m just overwhelmed.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. “Same here.”

“But you’ve been so calm for me.”

He laughs at my words. “I’ve been thinking the same thing about you. You’ve been so strong and composed.”

“I stared at a blank computer screen for forty-five minutes this morning as my brain played a slideshow of everything bad that could happen and reminded me over and over that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I cried in Mackenzie’s lap this morning.”

At those words, I set my fork down and move closer to him. “You did?”

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