Forty-Eight

“Did you mean what you said?” James asks softly the next morning. “About.. wanting a baby?”

I look up from the cookie coated sheets I was currently stripping, “I did.”

He gets a brief flash of excitement in his eyes, “what changed?”

I sigh, “honestly? Everything.”

“Like?”

“Like,” I start slowly. “Our parents know about us. That was the big one that was stopping me, I think. And then we got married, which was one of my original stipulations.” I pause before continuing, trying to keep my voice under control, “and even though it’s only been six months since.. my abortion, I feel like we are in a better place now. I’ve got my photography and you’ve got your architecture. I feel like I wouldn’t mind being pregnant now.”

To say the last four months have been busy would be an understatement. We were still staying with Annie and Georgie in Australia but had come home for Christmas and New Year’s. After I’d told James about the conversation with our parents, things had gotten infinitely better