Even after a whole year together, he still likes to sit with me and kiss me as the sun sets. On this particular night, I’ve got unsettling news.
Brooks is poring over his planner for the following year and bouncing ideas off me. “We could do Bali and then Australia, or we could do South Korea first and work our way down and across Oceania before we come back home. Or we could cancel all of it and do a tour of southern Africa. I know you’ve always wanted to surf in South Africa, so I’ll book lessons for you.”
I rest my hand on his forearm.
“I think we’ll be staying home all next year,” I say.
He doesn’t hear me at first, or perhaps he’s tuning me out. “We could also do China since we’ve never been there. They have this crazy arachnid I’ve been dying to see in person at the zoo there…wait. What did you say?” Brooks turns to me and blinks.
I smile and sip my soda. “I said all next year is canceled, I think.”
“Why? What’s wrong? Are you sick? Did something happen? Do you not like it anymore? I know I said that if you ever decide you don’t want to do this anymore, we could stop, no questions asked, but I’m sorry, I have questions.”
I place my index finger over his lips to gently silence him. He’s ready to move heaven and earth on a whim, just for me, at a moment’s notice. I love him so damn much.
“I’m not sick. But the doctor says it’s best if I don’t travel anywhere too remote.”
His brows come together. “Why?”
“Because although I may be acclimated to island life, I’m still a city girl at heart. And, I’d like to deliver at a hospital here or at least somewhere with an actual hospital and a NICU, just in case.”
Brooks’s jaw drops, and he stares at me with a look of such incredulity I think I’ve shorted out his brain.
“I’ve missed a few pieces here. Baby, are you pregnant?”
“As of three weeks ago? Yes.”
I can see his brain doing the math. “Three weeks ago…” he mutters, tapping his lip.
“That’s when we were on Temple Island, drunk on fermented mangos….” I remind him.
He laughs. “Oh yeah. Me, you and the monkeys.”
“Fortunately, the monkeys left us alone.”
“But they didn’t take too kindly to us using their sturdiest branch.” We do have a shared affinity for outdoor shenanigans.
I stare at him and wait for him to absorb what’s happening.
Without another word, and as calm as can be, my Brooks slides his hand over my tummy. “We’re going to have a little bug? All to ourselves?”
I laugh and dryly say, “No, we have to sacrifice it to the volcano god,” I say. Thank god I settled down with a man who appreciates my weird sense of humor.
His eyes brighten, and he says, “We should have the baby in the volcano.”
“No.”
“We could set up a glamping tent; it’ll be as cozy as our house.”
“No, Brooks.”
“The resort employs a doula,” he offers.
“Brooks, I swear to god….”
Brooks catches my lip between his, and all thoughts of continuing this ridiculous argument evaporate.
“I love you, my little dragonfly,” he whispers.