“Please. If I were you, I would have jumped on that shit faster than a monkey on a banana. You and Chris need to stop pretending like you’re not going to spend the rest of your lives together.”

Taking a seat on a fancy stool at the kitchen island, I gaze around the huge kitchen. If Tristan is making enough money for a house like this, what is Chris pulling in? Senia grabs a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and rolls it across the top of the kitchen island toward me. I catch it and guzzle down the whole bottle in one shot.

“How about you? Are you mad at yourself for moving in with Tristan?”

“Check you out. Picking up cues from Dr. Goldberg, are you?” She jumps up to sit down on the counter and I pull my legs up onto the stool to sit cross-legged. “It’s not so much that I’m mad at myself. I think I’m just frustrated with… everything. I’m starting to feel like I may have chosen the wrong major.”

“Chemistry?”

“Yeah, I mean, I think I just picked it because it’s about as far as I could get from real estate. I don’t want to be stuck working in the family business for the rest of my life like my sisters. I want to do something important. Like you, you’re going to school to do something important, but what am I doing? I’ll probably end up rubbing shampoo in the eyes of lab animals for some cosmetic company.”

“You won’t end up doing that, and you can do lots of important stuff with a degree in chemistry. Maybe you can help discover a cure for AIDS.”

“I think I have pre-partum depression. Tristan came home from the studio last night around six. I was lying on the carpet in the study doing my homework when he walks in and asks me if lying on my stomach is safe for the baby. I started bawling my eyes out. I mean, how fucked up is it that Tristan cares more about the baby than I do?”

I laugh so hard at this that I nearly piss out the water I just guzzled down. “That’s hilarious!”

“It’s not funny! I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing!”

“Oh, my God. That’s classic. Thank you for making me laugh.” I wipe the tears of laughter from the corners of my eyes and catch my breath. “Of course, you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re experiencing this all for the first time. Your next pregnancy will probably be a breeze.”

“Next pregnancy? I am never doing this again. You know I’ve thrown up five times this week and I’ve only taken a dump twice. I think my body doesn’t know which end the food is supposed to come out of anymore.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, at least Tristan has been good about it. He went to the store to get me some Gatorade a few days ago. When he came back, I was passed out in my bedroom, so he left the Gatorade in a cooler next to my bed.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me? Are we still talking about Tristan Pollock?”

She leans back to lie across the granite breakfast bar and I quickly push a bowl of red apples out of the way. “He’s really not as bad as I thought he was. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s still an asshole sometimes, but he has his moments. I know we’re not together, so technically I can’t tell him not to fuck other girls since we’re not fucking, but I do wish he wouldn’t fuck other girls.”

“How do you know he’s fucking other girls?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. Like, he normally gets home at six, but he got home at nine on Tuesday and he went straight to take a shower.”

“That’s your evidence that he’s sleeping with other girls?”

“Whatever. I just know that this arrangement is going to drive me nuts. It’s not as if I can just start a new relationship while I’m pregnant and living with the guy who knocked me up.”

I grab an apple out of the bowl and take a large bite. The juice runs down my hand and I lick it up quickly then munch on my apple for a bit before I answer.

“I don’t know. Maybe this is going to be good for both of you. If you can’t get involved with any new creeps and he can’t bring home a new girl every night, maybe you’ll both grow up a little and learn to trust each other.”

“That sounded kind of harsh.”

“Sorry.”

She stares at the ceiling for a while before the sound of the front door opening makes her sit up and slide off the counter. “If he sees me lying on the counter, he’ll probably ask me if it’s safe. Granite countertops emit radiation, you know.”

I shake my head and watch as Chris, Tristan, Jake, and Rachel come walking into the kitchen. Chris smiles when he sees me and my stomach flutters.

“Hey, babe,” he says as he leans in and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “How’d it go today?”

He asked me this same question last week, which was my first session with Dr. Goldberg after moving in with him. I assumed he wanted to know if I spoke to my therapist about moving in and what he thought about it. Goldberg actually gave me some important academic advice during last week’s session, which I couldn’t share with Chris. So I just told Chris that it went well and that Goldberg was pleased to see that we were reconnecting.

“It was okay,” I say as Chris stands behind the barstool I’m sitting in and begins massaging my shoulders. “I’ll talk to you about it later. Did you guys finish up today?”

“Hell fucking yes, we finished,” Tristan answers for Chris as he sits on the huge white sofa in the family room, which is open to the dining area and kitchen.

He swipes the remote off the coffee table and turns on the TV. Looking over his shoulder at Senia, he nods toward the living room, beckoning her to join him. Senia stares at the back of his head for a moment before she walks into the family room and sits next to him on the sofa. He flips to the Science Channel and grins, proud of himself for knowing her favorite channel. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Tristan and Senia are entering the stage in their relationship where words are no longer needed to communicate.

Chris continues to knead the knots in my neck and shoulders and it’s both relaxing me and turning me on, so I turn my head and bite his fingers to get him to stop. “Sit down and rest your leg,” I order him.

“Yes, dear,” he says as he takes a seat on the barstool next to me.

Rachel immediately opens the pantry and takes out a box of cheese crackers. “How did the fitting go?” she asks me as she grabs a large handful and passes me the box.

“It was fine. I was in and out of there in like 20 minutes. But damn, that woman was wearing a lot of perfume.”

“Oh, yeah, Sheri loves her Victoria’s Secret body spray. Do you know what song you want to dance to with Chris?”

I chuckle as I pop a cracker in my mouth. “What? Is this one of those weddings where the entire wedding party has to dance?”

Rachel looks uncomfortable and now I feel bad for laughing. “It’s not like that,” she says as she turns to Chris. “I just figured you guys would want a song to dance to since you’ve been together so long. You don’t have to, but I think it would be kind of romantic.”

“I’ll give you a song,” Chris says as he reaches for my half-eaten apple. “Is this yours?”

“Yeah, it’s mine. How about one of your songs?” I suggest. He smiles as he chews the apple slowly. “What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing. I just have something I want to give you, but I have to wait until Wednesday. But it’s killing me to wait.” I open my mouth to speak and he cuts me off. “It’s not another engagement ring. I’m still waiting for you to give me an answer on the first one.”

Jake grabs a few beers out of the fridge and passes one to Tristan and one to Rachel. Chris refuses the beer and Jake doesn’t even bother offering me. He knows I don’t drink. Rachel and Jake lock eyes as they drink their beers, initiating a drinking contest, but Rachel gives up first when she chokes on her beer. She slams the half-full bottle of beer on the counter and bends over in a coughing fit. Jake finishes his beer and rubs her back.

“I can’t believe I’m marrying such a lightweight,” Jake teases her and she slaps his hand away.

That’s when it hits me. I know what I’m giving Chris for Christmas.

Chapter Twenty

Claire

When Chris and I arrive at Jackie’s house, I can’t help but feel a little nostalgic as the smell of home cooked food embraces us and pulls us into the kitchen. Chris looks as confused as I feel when we find Jackie bent over and pulling something out of the oven.

“I thought we were going out for dinner,” he says as Jackie places a glass dish covered in foil on the counter.

“I decided to cook instead. I haven’t cooked for you two in a while. I’m making your favorite,” she says to me. “Rotisserie chicken and bacon mac ‘n’ cheese.”

Macaroni and cheese.

I try not to let anyone see how this simple phrase affects me. Instead, I smile and keep myself busy by setting the table. I set the dishes and silverware out while Chris brings the dishes and napkins.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he sets down a plate at the head of the table for Jackie.

He can sense that my mind is elsewhere. I look at him across the table wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt that’s just snug enough to show off his muscular arms and chest. In so many ways, Chris has grown from the person he was before he left to L.A. last year. But even after a year apart, he still knows me better than anyone.

“I’m fine. Just a little nervous,” I reply, which is true.

Chris and I set up this Sunday dinner with Jackie to talk to her about Abigail. Thinking back on the conversation we had last night only makes me more nervous.

Last night, as I massaged Chris’s knee in bed, I told him everything Dr. Goldberg and I spoke about on Friday, even the part where I expressed my hesitance about moving forward with the open adoption. I expected him to get pissed or refuse to speak to me after that. But, once again, he surprised me with how much he’s grown.

“I’ve been feeling the same way,” he said as he adjusted the pillows behind his back to get more comfortable. “I didn’t want to say anything. I don’t want you to think that I’m giving up on the agreement because I don’t love her. It’s the opposite. I keep thinking of what will happen to her if she grows up with two sets of parents who would both do anything for her.”

“She’ll always wonder why I gave her up. She might even resent me for it. Or worse… she may think I gave her up because I didn’t want her. And any time something gets rough at home, she’ll wish she were with us instead of them.”

“I feel like a terrible person for even thinking of giving up. But I’ll feel even worse for not putting Abigail first.” We look each other in the eye and I can tell he’s trying to hold it together. “I never told you this, but the day we met, when you were complaining about not having slept and I convinced you to come downstairs to listen to us play… I’ve always regretted that.”

“Why?”

“After I found out what you had been through with your mom and all the other foster homes, I felt like I should have let you sleep that day instead of asking you to come downstairs so I could put on a show for you.”

“It’s not like I didn’t have a choice. I could have gone to sleep. I wanted to go downstairs.”

“I know, but you also probably didn’t want to say no because you were in yet another new home. Anyway, I’ve thought about that day a lot and how I should have let you sleep. I should have, from the day you moved in, showed you that you would always come first. That’s what you needed. And I know that’s what Abigail needs, too.”

We held each other for what must have been four or five hours, until the tears that soaked through my pillowcase had dried. It was at that moment that I realized the most important lesson Abigail taught me.