Chapter 20: Amended Terms

Roderick moved over on the rocking chair, which was not built for two.

I sat on the wide arm with my hip against his shoulder.

Our son slept on his chest with one fist closed on the neck of the T-shirt.

"He eats in an hour," Roderick whispered.

"I know. I wrote the schedule."

"I know you did. I memorized it."

I laughed quietly into his hair.

He smelled of baby soap and lemon floor wax, and under both of them he smelled like himself.

"I need to tell you something," I said.

"Okay."

"I was scared. The whole pregnancy. Every night, for thirty weeks."

His whole body went still.

"I never said it, because you were so busy. I thought if I said it out loud, you'd stop everything."

"Leah."

"I thought I'd become one more thing you had to carry. So I said I was fine."

"I know that now," he said. "I should have seen it."

"You should have asked twice."

"I'll ask twice for the rest of my life."

He said it into the dark, steadily, and I believed him a little more than I wanted to.

I stood up and took our son from his chest.

I laid him in the bassinet by the window and tucked the blanket under his chin.

I kept my palm on his back until his breathing evened out.

When I turned around, Roderick was standing in the nursery doorway.

He hadn't come any closer.

"Guest room," he said. "That's the trial."

"The trial is mine. I'm amending it."

"Leah..."

"Come here."

He came.

I took his hand and slid it under my shirt, low on my stomach, where the scar ran from hip to hip.

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