Page 23 of Home in the Country
“It’s not even a thing,” I reply honestly. “Do you want to talk?”
“Fallon, let me know what I can get you, and then I’ll get out of your hair,” Joe says, and I rattle off something from the specials board.
Moving back to my side of the booth, we wait as she drops a cup of coffee in front of me and refills Marlee’s mug.
“Waylon and I are trying to get pregnant.” I reach over and take her hand. “We haven’t been trying long but,”—she worries her bottom lip—“it still sucks.”
“I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through because Tanner and I didn’t get pregnant on purpose—but I am here for you, and I’m sorry, and it sucks.”
“It totally sucks,” she says on a watery sniffle.
“When I moved out to base, I was scared. Tanner and I were basically dating while being married and trying to prepare for this baby we hadn’t planned for. Do you wanna know what he said to me?”
“What?”
“He took my hand,”—I squeeze hers for emphasis—“and said we wouldn’t know why we were destined to have this baby until we held him in our arms. We were both terrified, but he always believed that Briggs was destined to be ours. That together we’d be this perfectly imperfect family.”
“That is just so,”—she fans her face—“beautiful. Thank you.”
“I don’t know what your journey will be like, but enjoy the process. Love your husband, and be honest with him about what you’re feeling. I will support you as much or as little as you want me to.”
“You’re amazing, do you know that?”
“Here you go, ladies.”
Joe leaves a vegetable omelet in front of me and a massive stack of chocolate chip pancakes—with enough whipped cream to satisfy my five-year-old—in front of Marlee. We thank her, and I watch Marlee with amusement as she shoves a huge bite in her mouth.
“Comfort food,” she manages once she’s chewed and swallowed.
“You’re allowed.”
“Fallon?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. I think I’ve been putting too much pressure on us, and it might be nice to just,”—she lowers her voice—“not have sex on a schedule.”
My cheeks heat and she laughs.
“Sorry, that was an overshare.”
I wave her off. “It’s fine. I’m just awkward.”
“Do you want to talk about Otto instead?” She cackles as I choke on my sip of coffee, a brightness back in her eyes.
“Not exactly.”
“Well, if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.”
“Likewise.”
We eat and chat and both leave a little lighter than when we arrived. It felt good to connect with Marlee on more than a surface level. I’d tried to make friends with the other military wives on base, but it was hard to navigate the social constructs. There was a lot of it I didn’t understand, and after a while, I didn’t want to. Life there was temporary and so were the relationships I made.
Turning onto my parents’ street, I blow out a breath. It’s sunny today and the neighbors are out doing yard work or otherwise enjoying the day.
“Mornin’, baby,” my mother greets me when I park my car and make my way inside.
“Hi, Mama. Where’s Briggs? Was he good for you?”
