Six years earlier
“You’re getting an outie,” I tell her. I run my fingers over her bare stomach, and I kiss it. “It’s cute.”
I press my ear to her skin and close my eyes. “I bet he’s lonely in there,” I say. “Are you lonely in there, buddy?”
Rachel laughs. “You keep calling him a boy. What if he’s a girl?”
I tell Rachel whatever he is, I’ll love him the same. I already love him.
Or her.
Our parents are out of town. We’re playing house again, except this time, we aren’t really playing. It’s kind of serious.
“So what happens if he really does propose to her this time?” she asks.
I tell her not to worry. I tell her he’s not proposing. He would ask me first before he did it. I know that much about him.
“We have to tell them,” I say to her.
She nods. She knows we have to tell them. It’s been three months. We graduate in two. She’s starting to show.
She’s getting an outie. It’s cute.
“We should tell them tomorrow,” I say.
She says okay.
I move away from her stomach and lie beside her. I pull her against me. I touch her face.
“I love you, Rachel,” I tell her.
She’s not as scared now. She tells me she loves me, too.
“You’re doing a good job,” I say. She doesn’t know what I’m talking about, so I grin and touch her stomach. “You’re doing a good job growing him. I’m pretty sure you’re gonna grow the best baby any woman has ever grown.”
She laughs at my silliness.
You love me so much, Rachel.
I look at her—at the girl I gave my heart to—and I wonder how I got so lucky.
I wonder why she loves me just as much as I love her.
I wonder what my dad is going to say when he finds out about us.
I wonder if Lisa will hate me. I wonder if she’ll want to take Rachel back to Phoenix.
I wonder how I can convince them that we’ve got this.
“What are we going to name him?” I ask her.
She’s excited when I ask her this. She likes talking about names.
She says if it’s a girl, she wants to name her Claire. After her grandmother.
I tell her I wish I knew her grandmother. I want to know the woman my daughter will be named after. She tells me her grandmother would have loved me. I tell her I love the name Claire.
“You can pick the boy name,” she says.
I tell her that’s a lot of pressure. I tell her he’ll have to live with his name the rest of his life. She says, “Then you’d better pick a good one.”
I’d better pick a good one.
“One that means something to you,” she says.
One that means something to me.
I tell her I have the perfect name for him.
She wants to know what it is. I tell her I’m not telling her. I’ll tell her his name after it becomes his name.
After he’s born.
She tells me I’m insane. She says she refuses to give birth to our baby until she knows his name.
I laugh. I tell her she has no choice.
She tells me I’m crazy.
You love that about me, Rachel.
