“We can make it work. I have practice in the morning, but after that I’m free. You could come, if you want—both of you. I could have a car pick you up?”
“I have a car.”
“You got your license.” He smiles—it’s a statement, not a question.
At some point I should tell RJ the truth: that I knew how to drive in Alaska but I just never got my license. It was one of the first things I did when I returned to Washington, wanting that piece of independence. “I did, and I drove all the way here from Washington.”
RJ’s eyes bug out. “That’s one hell of a drive.”
“You should try it when you’re seven months pregnant. It probably took twice as long with all the bathroom stops.”
“What made you come all the way to Chicago?” RJ props his cheek on his fist.
I shrug and look away. “There was a job opportunity, and I took it.” I press my lips to Kody’s forehead. He’s finally asleep. “I’m going to put him in his crib.”
“Okay. Sure. Can I help?”
“Of course.”
I teach RJ in whispers how to put Kody to bed. It’s not particularly difficult, but we have a routine we follow. Once he’s settled in his crib and sleeping soundly, RJ and I head back to the living room.
I pull out two photo albums, the first chronicling my pregnancy—including the ultrasound pictures, my progress from tiny bump to full-on baby belly, the drive from Washington to Chicago, setting up his nursery in this apartment, and the trip to the hospital with Eden.
One of RJ’s arms is stretched out across the back of the couch, the album open between us. He’s shifted until our thighs are touching. I’m hyperaware of our proximity, of every place where our bodies touch, of the way he keeps fiddling with the end of my braid. The closeness is easy—but not, because it reminds me of those weeks when we were together and of the way we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
“Eden was with you for the birth?” RJ asks, pulling me out of my head and my spiral of inappropriate thoughts.
“She was. She’s been a good friend.”
“I’m glad you have her. I’d hate to think of you completely alone out here. I can’t imagine your parents were all that happy that you moved across the country.”
“They’re the reason I’m here.”
“Can I ask what happened?” RJ shifts so he’s facing me.
I focus on the picture in front of me, the last one I took before my entire life changed all over again. “My parents were happy to have me home when I returned from Alaska, but I was . . . not as happy to be there. I missed Kodiak Island—I missed you—and you were just . . . gone. It didn’t take long before my mother started with the whole overprotective routine. It got old fast, and things went downhill quickly when I realized I was pregnant. I tried to find a way to reach you, but when I’d exhausted all my options . . . well, it all seemed pretty hopeless.”
“I’m so sorry, Lainey.”
“Me too.” I reach for my glass of wine and take an unsteady sip. “I actually moved in with my oldest sister and her family for a little while because of the tension with my parents. I needed space, and I couldn’t get any. I finished my master’s thesis, and then Eden suggested I come out for a visit. I took a plane that time because I wasn’t too far along to fly. I fell in love with the aquarium and the independence. I didn’t want to go back to Washington, but at the time I didn’t have a choice. Until the position came available at the aquarium.”
“So you took it and drove out here on your own.”
“Eden flew out, and we drove back together. My parents weren’t happy, obviously, but I needed the space and the ability to prove not just to them but to myself that I could do this.”
“You know you’re amazing, right? After everything you’ve been through—and then handling a pregnancy on your own, coming here, raising a baby alone.”
“I’ve had lots of support. And my job is fantastic. I have flexible hours. It’s right across the street. I can even do research at home when I need to. The medical and other benefits are excellent. As far as moves go, this one has been great—for me, at least.”
“Have your parents at least met Kody?”
“Oh yes. They came out to visit as soon as he was born. Tried to convince me to come home, but I was settled and determined, so I stayed.” I flip the first album closed and open the second one, setting it between us. The first picture is the birth announcement.
“Kodiak RJ Carver,” RJ murmurs, tracing the edge of the photo. “Kody. I can’t believe I didn’t put it together.”