“We need a babymoon,” I announce. I’m nothing if not a problem solver. Nothing makes me happier than rolling up my sleeves, getting to work, and fixing something.
There’s a long pause. “Isn’t that what couples do before the birth of their first child?”
I nod. “Yes, but think about it. We could go away somewhere—just the two of us. We could order room service, have girl talk ... and sleep in.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
I chuckle. “It would be fun.”
She sighs wistfully. “That does sound dreamy. But what would I do with the kids?”
“Will could keep them,” I supply.
“Willcouldkeep them.”
I hear Will’s reply in the background. Something that sounds more like a question than an outright agreement. Scarlet fills him in on my plan, and they converse for a second while I dump my uneaten bagel into the trash. I haven’t had much of an appetite these past few days.
“Okay, so say there’s a hypothetical universe where Will’s willing to do that, where would we even go?”
That is a very good question, considering this idea just popped into my head ninety seconds ago.
“Well, I’m open, but maybe a nice hotel in Santa Cruz. Or Big Sur?” In our twenties, we once glamped in Big Sur at a lovely spot in the redwood forest. I remember feeling so small but also so grounded and completely at peace during that trip. The scenery along the coast was alarmingly beautiful, with dramatic cliffs rising out of the sea and striking turquoise water that was so blue it didn’t look real.
We also hiked for miles in the state park along the rugged coastline, which was obviously not going to happen while she was seven and a half months pregnant.
“Maybe,” she says, processing. “But then again, if I’m really going to catch up on sleep, I can’t trust just any old mattress to do the job. Ilovemy bed—plus I have my body pillow here ... lugging that thing on a trip would be borderline ridiculous.”
“We don’t have to go. It was just an idea.”
“No. No, I want to. Believe me. I’m just trying to be practical.”
“Okay, so what if we did a staycation? A girls’ weekend at your place? Will could take the kids to his parents’ house for the weekend. You wouldn’t have to be separated from whatever a body pillow is.”
I can practically hear a ding-ding-ding go off in Scarlet’s head. Will’s parents are really helpful with the kids, so it wouldn’t be a great hardship for him and the grandparents would be happy. Scarlet gets her mattress, and I get best friend time while I grieve Murphy. It’s a win, win, win.
“I actually love that idea,” she chirps. “We can order DoorDash for all our meals and watch chick flicks.”
“That sounds perfect. And you can sleep in and nap all you want.”
“If I weren’t already married,” she says with a wistful sigh, “I’d get down on one knee and beg for your hand.”
I chuckle. “And I’d accept.”
“I don’t know how you do it. I call to check onyou, and you end up taking care of me.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“I’ll talk to Will to firm up the plans, and then I’ll text you.”
Two days later I’m standing on Scarlet’s porch with a pillow tucked under one arm, a duffel bag slung across my torso, and a box of scones in one hand (for Scarlet) and a bottle of wine in the other (for me).
Will has taken the kids to his parents’ house for the next two nights, which means Scar and I have forty-eight blissful hours of girl time. I can’t remember the last time this happened. Maybe for her bachelorette party, which means it’s been ten years.
We squeal, hugging when I find her in the living room.
“You have no idea how badly I needed this.”
I pat her firm, round belly. “I need it too.” The truth is, it never feels like enough time with Scarlet. We’re both pulled in so many differentdirections these days that our time spent together feels precious. I’ve often worried that with our vastly different lifestyles—hers as a wife and mom, mine as a career-focused single chick—that we’d drift apart. That there wouldn’t be enough linking us together. Thankfully that hasn’t happened.