For a few seconds, we worked in rhythm, side by side, like we’d done this a thousand times. Like the newborn strapped to me and the baby on his hip and the mountain of giggling girls in the other room were all normal.
Maybe it was.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, heart beating a little faster. “Hey.”
He looked over. “Yeah?”
“I know I said yesterday that you should get a vasectomy,” I said softly, eyes on the pan as I scraped at the eggs. “But… I never asked if you even wanted more.”
He blinked. The pancakes stopped mid-flip. Mira let out a squeal and tried to grab the spatula.
He lowered the pan and looked at me, really looked. “Are you serious?”
I shrugged a little, focusing on the eggs again. “I mean, not right now, obviously. I’m bleeding and leaking and sleep-deprived. But eventually. I don’t know. Maybe I was a little too quick to assume we were done.”
Travis shifted Mira to the other arm and leaned against the counter beside me. “I said yes to the vasectomy because I thought you were done. You’ve been through everything. I would’ve gotten one in the hospital lobby if you’d told me it made you feel safe.”
I laughed quietly.
“But…” he continued, voice softer now, “if you’re asking me if I want more someday? Yeah. I do. I don’t even know how many. Maybe one. Maybe two. But… yeah.”
I stopped stirring and looked at him.
“You really do?”
He smiled, tired but so genuine. “I mean, I’m holding Mira, our third is drooling down your chest, we haven’t slept in a week, and I still think they’re the best things we’ve ever done.”
Something in my chest cracked open—wide and full.
I reached for his hand across the counter, and he took it without hesitation.
“We don’t have to decide now,” I said.
“God, no,” he chuckled. “Let’s just survive this week first.”
“But maybe someday?” I asked, just to hear him say it again.
“Yeah, Tay,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Someday.”
And in that kitchen, full of crumbs and cartoons and baby breath against my skin, I felt something I hadn’t felt in weeks—hope.
Travis smirked as he passed me a plate for the eggs, still balancing Mira like it was second nature now. “So… no snip appointments, then?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Nope. Not yet. But also—let’s be real—we thought I couldn’t get pregnant, and clearly I can.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You really waited until the baby was crowning to prove a point.”
I gave him a look, deadpan. “It wasn’t a point. It was a surprise performance.”
He laughed under his breath, turning back to the pancakes. “So what now?”
I handed him the plate, adjusting Baylor against my chest. “Now? We get smart. Protection. Condoms. I’m not risking another ‘surprise’ until we both say go.”
He nodded slowly, brow furrowed. “Fair.”
“And I’m not going on birth control unless I absolutely have to,” I added, grabbing a fork and tapping it on the counter for emphasis. “I usually only do that when I’m touring. It messes with everything—my mood, my body, my milk supply...”
أنت تقرأ
Invisible String
أدب الهواةWe always thought it would be easy - or at least, easier than this. Starting a family was the next chapter we were so ready for. After years of tour buses, locker rooms, sold-out stadiums, and quiet nights tangled up on the couch, we finally looked...
