“Yeah.” I swipe at my cheeks. “I’m taking shots now. Hormone shots so I can freeze my eggs.”

“What? You’re…you’re freezing your eggs? What does that mean? How many times do you do it? Are there side effects?”

“Whoa, buddy,” I chuckle and settle on the lumpy bed, laying back. “That gun was loaded.”

“Sorry.” He blows out a quick breath. “I just didn’t know.”

“Because I’m over thirty-five, I’ll have fewer viable eggs. So I do multiple rounds to increase my chances of a pregnancy. And since I’m in perimenopause, my chances are diminished even more. Fortunately, once the eggs are frozen, they don’t age, so I can…you know. When I’m ready. And if I think I might want more than one baby, well, I have to do it more times.”

“Do you think you want more than one baby?” he asks, the curiosity in his voice barely-checked, straining on the leash.

The chaos of Kayla’s house, five kids singing together, fighting, looking out for each other comes to me. Saturday mornings with my siblings, cleaning the house, eating macaroni and cheese.

“I think I might,” I say with a little surprised laugh.

“This could be…” His words break and then rush ahead. “Tru, this could be ours.”

I haven’t allowed myself to think of it that way, that what I’m doing now might be my only hope to have kids…with him. That it may be the foundation for our family. Until we get through this season, through Aiko’s pregnancy, I won’t think that way.

“I better go,” I tell him, pulling his shirt over my face so I can absorb the vestiges of him in its fibers. “I have an early morning.”

“Call again if you need to. I’d like that.” He sighs. “I need it, Kimba.”

So do I. We’ll see…

“Goodbye, Ez.”

I hang up before he says he loves me because there’s no way I’ll be able to stop myself from saying it back. Saying it louder. Meaning it more than maybe I ever have.

I sit up, walk over to the table, pick up the little pouch.

Tru, this could be ours.

This time when I try, the needle goes right in.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Eight

Ezra

“It’s just me!”

Mona’s voice booms from the kitchen, and my new daughter Mai, swaddled in my arms, jerks at the sound.

“Hell.” I rock her a bit until the little pinch between her eyebrows levels out. She settles again, her rosebud mouth rooting even in her sleep.

“Jack?” Mona calls. “Where are you?”

“Mo!” I whisper-hiss. “In my office. How ‘bout that inside voice?”