Five minutes ago, Andy picked me up from the coffee shop. I’m obviously capable of driving myself to and from work, and sometimes it’s a pain in the butt to not have a vehicle there, but it’s something that we’ve started doing so we get a few moments of quiet and alone time together each day. He’ll bring me to work in the morning then pick me up at the end of the day.

We started it the week after I brought Bri to college. He knew I was feeling the effects of her leaving and, in true Andy fashion, recognized exactly what I needed.

Him.

Today, though, he picked me up from work early. He noticed this morning that I wasn’t feeling great and asked if I wanted to try to leave earlier than usual. I wasn’t in a place to fight it this morning.

For a few weeks now, something has just felt off. Not bad. Not good. Just… different, and I can’t put my finger on it. I’m not willing to let it ruin our evening, though.

“What's wrong?”

I huff at how annoying it is that he’s so in tune with me. “Nothing!”

He narrows his eyes at me.

“Something’s wrong. What is it? Missing Bri?”

Always.

She’s been gone for six weeks.

But that’s not it.

“I said nothing's wrong with me! What's wrong with you?”

He chuckles, obviously on to my deflection.

“You gotta poop?”

“No I do not have to… poop.” I whisper the last word, looking around me, which makes no sense because we’re in his pickup, alone.

“Hey, it's okay if you do. I have some spray if you need it. Tess gave it to all the guys for Christmas. She came to the office one day and said she was sick of it smelling like shit, literally, in here so bought us each a bottle of this spray to use when we poo.”

I scrunch up my nose and can’t help but ask, “Like to help you poop?”

“No.” He busts out laughing, leaning over the steering wheel as he does it. When he finally regains composure, he looks at me then cracks up again. “Not to help you poop.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “I’m not like an eighty-year-old man who needs prunes in his diet. It’s to make it smell better when we do.”

I shake my head. “I don't understand.”

He pulls the bottle out of the console of his pickup and hands it to me.

“You carry it with you?”

He gives me a look. “Yeah. What if I have to poop in public?”

“Then you go poop! What do you need spray for?”

“To make it smell better! I thought we covered this already.”

Oh, my goodness. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. “And you said your shit doesn't stink…”

“It doesn't! Now.” He laughs to himself. “So, is that it? You need to poop when we get to your house? I promise I won't judge. And I won't smell a thing — you just spray that” —he points to the bottle that's still resting in my hands— “in the toilet first, and I swear it's like poop magic! No smell. Trust me — it's necessary in our house of boys. You'll be grateful forever to Tess for introducing me to it. You'll never have to smell my poop.”

“You do realize we've been talking about poop for fifteen minutes now, right?”

He shrugs. “Yeah? What else do you want to talk about?”

The sneaky little shit! “Oh, you're good.”

“I know.” He grins wide then looks at my panicked face and sighs. “Christine, baby, what's wrong?”

“You won’t let it go, will you?”

“Not a chance.”

He pulls into a Walgreens and shoots me a grin.

He stares at me for a few beats, squeezing my hand a couple of times. “Wait here, alright?”

I look around us. “Why? What are you doing?”

“I’ll be right back, then I’ll explain.”

“You’re really confusing me right now.”

He smiles softly and leans over to kiss me. It’s short and sweet. He rubs his nose against mine before leaning back and grabbing the door handle. “It’ll be perfectly clear in just a few minutes. I promise.”

I nod my head, sitting quietly in the cab of the pickup while he strides into the store. I watch as the clerk in the front watches him enter. She stands up straighter and smooths her ponytail. Bitch.

These stupid hormones of mine are all over the place right now. Getting older sucks sometimes. And lately, I can’t seem to get a hold of my emotions. I have had the fleeting thought that I’m going through menopause early, but that can’t be it. I’m barely over the age of forty!

I lose sight of Andy when he turns down an aisle. I worry my lip, wondering what he’s doing in the store, what he’s buying. I’m also getting increasingly concerned over the fact that I feel so crappy lately.

As soon as Andy makes his way to the front of the store again and places his basket on the counter, the clerk’s shoulders fall. His grin is wide as he pays then knocks his knuckles twice on the counter, grabbing the plastic handles of the bag and makes his way back to the pickup.

He jumps into the cab and winks at me, placing the bag in the backseat. He stares at me for a moment, the grin covering his face making my hackles rise.

“What?”

“I could feel you watching me the entire time.”

“I was not!”

He’s so irritatingly confident. But, he has reason to be. He turns heads everywhere he goes.

“You were.”

“You’re such a brat!”

“Men aren’t brats, Christine.” He’s smirking while he shakes his head in mock disappointment.

I cross my arms over my chest and try my best to glare at him. “Well looky there, you’re defying the odds because you absolutely are a brat. A cocky brat, too.”

“Cranky,” he teases.

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be cranky if you weren’t so secretive.”

“Fine. I see you’re not going to snap out of it until I prove to you why I’m so happy and you have no reason to be cranky.”

He reaches into the back seat and hands me the bag. Before I can look inside, he pulls me over to him, meeting my lips with his in a kiss that makes my toes curl. He turns his head to the side, and I lean closer, damning the center console for being in the way.

His tongue slides against mine. I nibble on his bottom lip, and he groans, igniting a fire deep in my belly. We’re sitting in the middle of a Walgreen’s parking lot, making out like a couple of teenagers, and I have no cares to give. I hope that clerk is watching us, turning green with jealousy.

And apparently, I’m a sixteen-year-old.

We separate when we need to break for air, and he smiles, biting his lower lip. I love when he does that. It’s endearing and sexy and everything Andy.

“I only have eyes for you, Christine. Not the Walgreens check out girl. Not some mom from the boys’ school. Not the lady from the mall who was helping me when we were getting jeans for the boys. Only you. You have no reason to worry. No reason to be jealous. Never forget that, yeah?”

I’m a puddle of mush when I reply a watery, “Yeah.”

Once I’m settled back in my seat, I look down at the bag still resting in my lap.

“You got something for me in there?”

“I did. Well, it’s kind of for both of us. And the kids. Look inside.”

I spread apart the handles and peek inside the bag, feeling an instant rush of heat flood my system.

I stare without blinking. Definitely without touching the contents of the bag.

Andy’s hand gently grips my thigh and squeezes once. My eyes slowly lift from the bag to his face. I expect to see anything but the smile that’s spread widely.

“You didn’t know?” His voice is soft and so reassuring.

“I think the better question is, how did you know?”

“Christine. I’m a man, not an idiot. I do understand a little about a woman’s body.”

“But… what if I’m just off? Or what if…”

“What if you really are?”

“Oh my goodness. Andy! What if I am?”

“Say the word, Christine. I’ve been rolling it around in my head for the last month and I gotta say, the first few times I damn near pissed myself, but now?”

“Now?”

“Now it feels pretty amazing to think about.”

“Shit. I’m such a moron. This is why we have sex ed! Because women live in this state of confusion! My period is never normal. Never. It’s just all over the place so I just… craaaaap. When I stress, I never get my period.”

“We weren’t exactly careful, either. My fault. I should have asked. I mean, we had discussed that we had both been tested, but we were pretty irresponsible about the birth control part.”

“I suppose we won’t be asked to be teaching those sex ed classes anytime soon, huh?”

“Yeah. Probably not.” His eyes twinkle. “I’m not some scared teenager, though. This might be unexpected, but I can’t say that it’s not an incredible gift.”

I watch him for a little while, realizing that he’s being completely honest. I shake my head, closing my eyes. “Andy, we can’t… I can’t.”

He places his hand on mine, and I lift my lids to look at him again. “We can. We will.”

I don’t know how he’s so calm. I suppose because he’s smarter than I am and figured out that I could be pregnant. And don’t think I didn’t stumble over even thinking that word. “What’s Bri gonna think? The boys?”

“They’re gonna know that we’re in love and the proof of it will be her.”

I gasp at the surety in his voice. “Her?”

“Of course.”

“You’re really sure about this? And you’re really okay with it?”

“Nothing would make me happier than to see you carrying my baby.”

The tears that I was miraculously holding back start falling down my cheeks. His eyes soften before he presses a kiss to each cheek, then to my lips. I can taste the lingering salt of my tears on his kiss. When he pulls back, he doesn’t move far. He rests his forehead on mine, wrapping one hand behind my neck.

Every time I exhale he inhales, taking in my breaths as his own.

His hand comes up, caressing my cheek with his thumb.

“Is this really happening?” My voice wavering.

He lifts his head and winks. “Well, I have a pretty good guess, but we’ll need to use what’s in that bag to find out.”

I look in the bag again and let out a giggle.

“Andy, you bought over a dozen pregnancy tests.”

He gasps. “You said the word! I’m so proud of you.”

I roll my eyes. “Why did you buy so many?”

He shrugs. “I just figured you would want to make sure.”

“And the Cheetos and Wheat Thins?”

He scratches the back of his neck and looks away before admitting. “I’ve noticed you’re eating the Wheat Thins a lot more lately.” He chuckles. “I assumed it’s something you’re craving.”

My heart could explode from the sweetness.

“And the Cheetos?”

He grins, making his dimple pop, just like Reece. “They sounded good.”

“You’re like a teenager sometimes.”

He gasps, pressing his hand against his chest. “Are you mocking the age of your baby daddy?”

“Eww! Nope. Don’t ever say baby daddy again.”

“Is it as bad as moist?”

I nod my head and shudder. “It is.”

He laughs and leans over, kissing me once again.

He places his hand on my stomach, and we both look down as his thumb makes a circle against the fabric of my shirt. “Ready to find out if I’m right?”

“You’ll never let me live it down if you realized I was pregnant before me, will you?”

“Yeah. Probably not.”

“Ugh. Fine. Let’s go see if I’m carrying your child.”

“That was quite literally the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”