Nate, Sully, and I watch a movie together pretty much every Sunday. I think it's important to have family time. Tonight we're watching the Avengers. I'm still surprised I talked the boys into watching something that isn't 500 years old. Halfway through the movie, a character dies and I start welling up. Nate sits with his arm around me and looks down when he hears me sniffle. "What's wrong, babe?"

I shrug. "I have no idea." I don't even remember the character's name. I didn't even cry during Les Miserables. Why am I crying?

"Do you... need something?"

"No."

"Did something happen?"

His questions are starting to get on my nerves. "No, Nate."

"Then why are you crying?"

"I said I don't know!" I snap. He looks surprised at my sudden mood swing. Even Sully has a confused look on his face. What is wrong with me? "I think I need to take five. You can keep the movie going, I'll be right back."

I get off the couch and head to the bathroom. After locking the door, I lean my head against it. I've been feeling weird lately. Mood swings, cravings, nausea, the whole shebang. It's like I'm... No, I can't be. I can't be pregnant. Nate and I make sure to take the proper precautions when... you know. Well, there was that one time in the kitchen... Just to be sure, I dig a pregnancy tester out from under the sink.

I take a deep breath to compose myself then I head back out. Nate's giving Sully a look, so I'm guessing they're arguing again. They may be best friends, but sometimes they act like an old married couple. They stop talking when they see me. "You okay, Elena?" Sully asks.

"Yeah, thanks for asking."

"We paused the movie for you," Nate says patting the couch. "You're the one who suggested it, so we figured we'd wait."

"Aw, thanks." I plop down and maneuver myself back under his arm.

We finish the movie without any more incidents and Sully leaves. He gives me a hug and a kiss on the forehead before he walks out the door. "Take care of yourself, sweetheart," he says.

"You too, Sully." He's a sweet man. He treats me like his own daughter. But in his eyes, I will never hold a candle to Nate. He loves his son more than he loves himself. I don't hate him for it, though. I can only hope to feel the same about my own child.

I'm already in bed when Nate exits the bathroom, dressed in basketball shorts and a loose t-shirt. He takes a running start and dives onto the bed, laughing to himself. "Nate, you know I hate when you do that," I sigh, rolling my eyes at his childish behavior.

He flashes me a devilish grin and says, "Looks like I'm gonna have to find another way to have fun." He takes my hand and begins to kiss it all the way up to my collarbone.

Resisting the temptation to give in, I peck him on the cheek and gently pull away. "Not tonight, sweetheart."

Nate looks bewildered. "What? There's no way it's that time of the month already."

"It's not that. I'm just tired."

"Are you sure you're feeling alright? You've been acting kinda weird."

I shoot him a look. "Me not wanting to have sex is weird?"

"No, no, no," he quickly back tracks, undoubtedly fearing banishment to the couch. "I didn't mean that. I meant your mood and stuff."

"I'm fine, Nate. Don't worry about me."

"But I do worry," he frowns. "You're my wife. Of course I worry about you."

"Your concern is duly appreciated, but right now I really just want to sleep."

"Okay, okay. You're the boss," he says playfully, finally settling under the covers. "Love you." I feel his arms snaking around my torso, lending me his warmth.

"I love you, too, Nate."