She makes a beeline straight for them, running down a slight hill until she reaches the glistening lake. The dock bobs gently under her feet with each step as she walks to the end. Sunny morning rays scatter across the calm water. Warm, calm wind flutters the hem of her dress, and somewhere nearby a chorus of ducks quack as loudly as they want. There are more houses on the other side of the lake too—all evenly spaced with clusters of trees between them.

Joy sits down, taking off her boots and socks. Her feet don’t quite reach the cool water. Somehow, she’s landed herself in a picturesque nightmare. Her horror movie prediction might not have been too far off.

Discussing kids (and their future lesson plans because Summer is probably gunning to be a stay-at-home parent) is a massive step in a serious direction. I’m positive she’s into me doesn’t even come close to suggesting we’ve talked about having kids. Not by a long shot.

Being honest, Joy still isn’t ready for kids. She isn’t sure she’ll ever be ready. Her eldest sister, Natasha, let her be in the room when her nephew was born. Caleb, in all his terrible twos glory, brought her an outrageous amount of happiness. But making the leap from World’s Best Aunt to World’s Okayest Mom scares the life out of her. There’s also the impending body horror, the medical racism, and the mortality rate for Black women specifically to think about. If she even survived pregnancy and delivery, she’d then have to deal with the costs of healthcare and childcare, the ramifications of raising a Black kid in a world that would never treat them fairly, never value their life.

There’s just so much, too much, to consider.

Malcolm, of course, would understand. She knows he would. But he might want easier. He might not want to have a million repetitive conversations to soothe her relentless anxiety.

It isn’t fair to let her fears hold him back from having the life he wants. Wanting to be with Malcolm meant accepting that future as inevitable.

Was she really prepared to do that for him?

Someone is coming—their heavy footsteps are making the dock move. Joy doesn’t turn because she knows it’s Malcolm. He always finds her.

“Here you are,” Summer chirps.

Joy reacts slowly, moving like she has a crick in her neck. You’ve got to be kidding me.

Summer invites herself to sit down, as smiley as ever. “Did Malcolm tell you it’s Fox’s birthday?”

Can’t she tell this is an introspective pity party for one? Joy would rather jump into the lake, fully clothed, than continue to sit there with Summer. She answers anyway. “He did.”

“Perfect! I want to get him a cake. Will you come with me?”