Quadruplets Make Six

“From your child?”

“No. From me. I don’t doubt for one second that he’d do anything for our child. But me? I don’t know. He… didn’t trust me in the beginning with his secrets, and then I tell him I’m pregnant and suddenly I know everything about him? He’s unwilling to keep secrets now? How is that supposed to make me feel?”

“Have you talked with him about this?” she asked.

“No, I haven’t.”

“You know communication’s imperative for two people having a child, right?”

“So Graham has told me time and time again.”

“Then maybe you should take the sign he’s showing you.”

“What if I lose him, Joanna?” I asked breathlessly.

“So you do love him?”

I felt my eyes water as I finally admitted the trut

h to myself. I did. I was in love with Graham. I was in love with his piercing blue stare and his thick head of hair. I was in love with his chiseled muscles and the soul they encased. I was in love with his laughter and in love with his command. I was in love with his zest for life and his dedication to our child.

I was in love with him, and I was petrified that he wasn’t in love with me.

“I’m not sure. I could be,” I said with a shrug. “There are so many things to sort out still.”

“There will always be things to sort out, Libby. Coming from a mother of a fairly well-behaved daughter, you’ll always have things to sort out. Your life won’t ever fully fall into place after you have that kid you’re growing. Ever. But that’s what Graham’s there for. To help you when those times get hard. And if you love him, stop denying it. It’s only going to hurt you two more. And if you do love him, then start acting like it. Because one day you’re going to test him, he’s going to fail, and you’re going to go ‘aha’ when you make your own worst nightmare come true.”

“Can I tell you something stupid?” I asked.

“Anything to lighten up this conversation,” Joanna said.

“I always imagined I’d get married first.”

Joanna started to giggle and it caused me to do the same. We were trying to stifle our laughter in the middle of the restaurant as she held her daughter in her lap. I cupped my hand over my mouth and bit down on my lip, trying desperately to not howl out into the room.

Laughter with Joanna was always cathartic, even though it was tinged with a bit of sadness.

“Do you know what I say to all of this?” Joanna asked.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Do what you want. If you want to love Graham, then love him. If you want to get married, then talk to him about it. If you want to live with him or on your own or in a mole hill on top of a mountain, talk to him. But whatever you decide to do, talk to the man, Libby. Stop keeping him in the dark.”

“Okay,” I said as I nodded my head. “Okay. I’ll talk to Graham.”

“Good. Now, what’s the gender of this child you’re carrying?” she asked.

“We still don’t know.”

“What!?”

“Yeah. Every time we go in for an ultrasound, she gets stubborn.”

“So you feel it’s a girl?”

“It seems more natural to call our child that, yes. But I’m really not sure.”

“A mother’s intuition is powerful. Never doubt it,” she said.