Page 127 of Butter My Biscuit

So, I pull my phone out of my pocket and play some music, and then I turn on the faucet. An entire song plays through, and I hear her flush. Both sticks are sitting on the counter, and we lean against the wall next to each other.

“How long does it take?” I ask.

“Three minutes,” she says, holding up her phone.

We watch the seconds slowly click down.

“Longest three minutes of my life.”

“Mine too,” I admit, turning my head toward her. “What will you do if it’s positive?”

She searches my face. “Are you asking me if I’ll keep the baby?”

“I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

“Yes,” she says without hesitation.

“Okay.” I smile, almost coming to terms with this happening.

There’s this reckless part of me that hopes it’s positive even if it would be hard and people would talk. I wouldn’t give two shits because we’d be parents, together, raising a tiny human.

She sighs. “I don’t think I’m ready to be a mom. A single mom at that.”

This makes me laugh. “I don’t think anyone is ready to be a parent. I’m not. You just kinda do the best you can.”

The small space falls silent.

“I’ll be there for everything, princess. I wouldn’t let you do this alone.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” she says, choking up. “But I’d ask you to.”

“What?”

“You’re getting married, Harrison.”

I place my hand on her cheek. “That test will determine that.”

“No, you have to make a promise to me. If …” She looks away and glances up at the ceiling. “No matter what those tests say, please promise me that you’ll get married the way you planned.” She places her hand on my cheek. “Please. I can’t be the reason.”

I shake my head, not able to do that. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

“I don’t want you to choose me. I’m not an option.”

The alarm goes off, and Grace looks down at it and silences it. Neither of us takes a step forward and looks.

“I guess this is it,” she says. “I’m nervous.” She grabs my hand and places it on the pulse in her neck that’s racing.

I open my arms and pull her into a hug, and we stand there for another three minutes. The unspoken conversation weaves through the air, and I’m ready to know the future.

“It’s time to look,” I whisper, and she nods.

Sucking in a deep breath, we both grab a stick, and there’s a big NO on the one I have. I glance at hers, and it says NO too. She lets out a relieved sigh, then covers her face as she cries, but she’s also laughing.

“It’s hard for me to know how to act right now because I don’t know if you’re happy or upset.”

She looks at the tests on the counter then wraps her arms around my neck, hugging me. “I’m happy. But for a day, I imagined a different life where we had a baby.”

“I imagined the same one.”

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