One line. Please, please let it be one line.
Grace was sitting on the cold tile floor of the master bathroom, knees hugged closely to her chest, impatiently staring down the five minutes counting down on the kitchen timer sitting at her feet. The house was empty; Wayne and Lucy had gone on their traditional Saturday morning playdate at the park, and it was their turn to do the grocery shopping afterward.
The silence in the house was deafening, especially in comparison to the mantra running through Grace's head, louder and louder as the seconds slowly ticked off the clock.
One line, one line, please let it only be one line …
Three weeks earlier
Wayne and Grace pulled into the driveway late on a Saturday night, having enjoyed a rare adults-only night out. Dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant was followed by a bottle of wine and a shared slice of double chocolate cake at a nearby dessert bar. Grace in particular had reveled at the opportunity to dress up and spend one-on-one time with her husband. She'd purchased an emerald green ruched jersey dress with a deep v-neck specifically for the occasion, and she was quite certain Wayne wasn't the only one who had appreciated the effort. They'd held hands, played a tentative game of footsie under the table at dinner, and sneaking in furtive makeout sessions when they hoped no one was looking. Now here they were, sitting in the dark, unwilling to spoil the mood by getting out of the car.
"Do you think Missy would notice if we just stayed in the car for a little while?" Wayne pondered.
Grace chuckled, as she'd been thinking along the same lines. "Well, you can't see the driveway from the living room, but I'm sure she heard us pull up, so it might be a little awkward. Let's send the poor girl home." Grace only got as far as unbuckling her seat belt before Wayne wrapped one arm around her waist, tugging her across the bucket seats into his lap.
"Have I told you recently how amazingly beautiful you looked tonight?" he asked in between gentle nips and nibbles around her neck.
She threaded her long fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, subtly but firmly guiding his caresses. "Only five or six times since we originally left the house, I think. I'm glad you noticed, though."
"How could I not? I wasn't the only one paying attention, either. But you know why it doesn't bother me if other men take a look?"
Grace moaned as he expertly suckled on her pulse point with just enough pressure to be felt, but not so much as to leave a visible mark. "Why is that?"
"Because I'm the one who gets to come home to you every night. Those other guys can look all they want, but none of them get to know what you look like under these clothes. They don't know what you like, or how to make you scream. So yeah, they can look, but only I get to touch."
"Mmmm. Yes, you do. And you can continue to touch all you like, just as soon as we send the babysitter home, okay?"
"Promise?" he asked hopefully, not daring to look up at her for fear that she was yanking his chain.
"Promise," she whispered seductively, nibbling his earlobe for emphasis. Wayne threw the driver's side door open and was halfway across their front lawn before Grace caught up to him.
Missy Fitzgerald, Lucy's favorite babysitter, was packing up her laptop and gathering up a few books when they walked in the door. The 16-year-old lived a couple of blocks away and came highly recommended by other families in the neighborhood when Wayne and Grace had been interviewing potential babysitters. It helped that she was more than a little bit intimidated by the prospect of sitting for a pair of CBI agents, and subsequently made sure she was always on her best behavior when looking after Lucy.
"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Rigsby, did you have a good evening?" she asked cheerfully, stuffing her books into her backpack and shrugging into a hoodie.
"We did, thank you for asking, Missy," Wayne replied as he hung up their coats in the front closet, digging for his wallet in the process.
"Did Lucy settle down eventually?" Grace asked.
"Yep. She fussed for a half-hour or so, but once she realized it was just the two of us, she was fine. I gave her a bath, we read some bedtime stories, and she finally talked herself to sleep about an hour ago, I guess. She's a really easygoing baby, I like sitting for her."
"Well, we certainly like having you. Here's your hard-earned forty dollars, don't spend it all in one place," Wayne joked as he handed over two crisp $20 bills.
Missy blushed. "I won't, sir. Thank you." Wayne escorted her out to the front porch and watched to make sure she made it to her car, parked in front of the house at the end of the sidewalk. No sooner had she fired up the engine and pulled away than the front door opened and Grace had yanked him back inside the house, where she pounced, clawing at his tie, the buttons on his shirt, and his belt all at once.
"Grace, what are you-"
She silenced him with a bruising kiss, while walking them backward into the living room, stumbling around furniture while stripping off various articles of clothing and finally tugging him down onto the couch on top of her. "I keep my promises."
"But-" he sputtered, trying unsuccessfully to still her hands, "condoms are upstairs-"
"Don't care."
He nearly bit her lower lip in shock. "What?"
She put just enough space between them in order to shimmy out of her dress, revealing a lace bra and panties in a matching shade of green. "You heard me. Want you now."
"What if-"
"We'll cross that bridge if we get to it."
The insistent beeping of the timer shocked Grace back into the present, indicating that her five minutes of stomach-twisting waiting were finally up. She took a deep breath and retrieved the test stick from its spot on the bathroom counter.
One line.
Negative.
Not pregnant.
A multitude of emotions welled up. Relief, coupled with anger at herself for being so careless. A deep and abiding conviction that this was not the right time to be adding to their family. Anxiety about what Wayne's reaction would be, and a fleeting debate over whether she should even tell him. How can I explain to him how glad I am that we're not having another baby? she asked herself. Would he understand, and accept that I'm not ready for this yet? Aside from a brief discussion about her going back on the pill after Lucy had finished nursing (and the subsequent appearance, without further comment, of a box of condoms in their nightstand), they hadn't even really seriously talked about when to try to get pregnant again. She started to cry, sobbing uncontrollably for a solid ten minutes, distracting her from hearing Wayne and Lucy arrive home.
Wayne had finished putting away all the groceries, and was about to take Lucy upstairs to put her down for her nap, when he realized that although Grace was home, the house was eerily quiet. After settling the baby in her nursery, he decided to investigate, and found the master bathroom door closed. He knocked softly.
"Grace? Honey, is everything okay?" Hearing only muffled sniffling coming from inside, he opened the door carefully. It didn't take a trained mentalist like Patrick Jane to understand what was going on judging by all the detritus on the floor. Crumpled kleenex, an empty cardboard box and various sheets of instructions surrounded his sobbing wife, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Seeing him in the doorway trigged another outbreak, and he could think of no other option than to kneel on the floor and wrap her up in his arms until her tears subsided. He rocked her gently, stroking her hair and just waiting for her to calm down to the point that they could talk about the situation.
"It's negative," she mumbled against his chest.
"How long have you suspected?"
"It didn't even occur to me until this morning. I looked at the calendar and noticed that I hadn't moved it to November, and that's when it hit me that I was a couple of days late. I panicked and went straight to the drugstore."
"Is it possible that the test is wrong?" he asked uncertainly. They hadn't gone through this process with Lucy, since Grace's first pregnancy had come as a pleasant surprise.
Grace shook her head. "False negatives are almost unheard of. There's a second test, and I'll take it tomorrow morning just to be sure, but I'm pretty certain I'm not pregnant."
Wayne processed this information for a few minutes. "How do you feel about this, Grace?"
Grace extricated herself from his embrace, stood up to splash some water on her face, then sat back down on the floor to face him, and the potentially uncomfortable conversation that would ensue. "I'm relieved, Wayne," she said hesitantly. "I'm sorry," she whispered as tears started to flow again, "but I'm just not ready for another baby yet."
He pulled her into his lap, enveloping her in a tight hug. "Don't be sorry, Grace. If that's how you feel, it's how you feel. There's nothing wrong with it. We haven't really talked about the possibility, so I don't blame you at all. But I have to ask you, and I want you to answer me honestly: would it have been okay if it had been positive?"
Grace pulled back, and the questioning look in his eyes nearly broke her heart. "Yes, of course. It wouldn't have been my ideal timing to have two kids under the age of two at the same time, but we would have made it work, absolutely."
"Do you even want another baby? I mean, we really haven't talked about any of this, at least not seriously. I guess there's no time like the present, right?"
"Yes, Wayne, I definitely want another baby, just not right now. Lucy is still so little, I want more time with her that's just the three of us. And I feel selfish for even saying this, but I feel like I'm still just getting my body and my energy back from being pregnant and from these first few months with her. I just want a little time to be a woman again before getting back into baby mode. I'm sorry that we had to have this conversation this way. It's not fair to you."
"It takes two to tango, Grace. I'm just as responsible for this as you are. For the record, though, even when you were pregnant you were the sexiest woman I've ever known. I guess I'll have to get back in the habit of carrying around protection all the time, just in case. Haven't had to do that since my college days," he joked with a slight leer.
"We will definitely have to be more careful," she agreed, snuggling up against his chest as he leaned back against the closed door.
"So, as long as we're on the topic of another baby, what kind of a timeline are we talking about here? Another year?" he wondered aloud as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through her hair.
"Maybe we wait until Lucy turns two. I kind of like the idea of potentially having only one child in diapers at a time."
"Okay, another sixteen months or so, then. I suppose I can wait that long," he teased.
They snuggled quietly. Grace's breathing had become so deep and even that Wayne thought she'd fallen asleep.
"A little boy," she muttered dreamily.
"Excuse me?" he asked, completely confused.
"I was just thinking about our hypothetical future baby. I think I'd like a little boy. A rambunctious little guy with his daddy's dimples, and most likely his appetite, who loves football and dinosaurs and Tonka trucks, and who follows his big sister around like she's the greatest thing since sliced bread. I think that would be good. One of each."
"A little boy, hmm. Well, I can't make any promises, but I will certainly do my best to make that happen."
Grace abruptly stood up and reached to pull Wayne up off the floor. "I'm glad we ended up having this conversation, even though it came out of the blue. And I love you so much for being a caring, understanding husband and an amazing father." She punctuated her statement with a firm kiss.
He swept her off her feet and carried her, fireman style, into their bedroom, tossing her on the bed. "I love you too, Grace. You are ridiculously sexy, and the only woman I ever wanted to be the mother of my children." They relaxed into each other, tangling up arms and legs, resting until Grace really did fall asleep.
As she napped, Wayne pondered the revelation that she wanted their next child to be a boy. He'd never revealed this to her, but every time he'd pictured their family in his mind's eye, they'd had two daughters. Two little princesses for him to dote on, to drive their mother crazy with their bickering, and to protect each other so fiercely it was as if their lives depended on it. He'd spent most of his life surrounded by women in one way or another; the idea was comforting.
She wants a little boy, he mused. Do I even know what it means to raise a son?
You're learning how to raise a daughter, he reminded himself. You'll figure it out eventually.
He carefully tugged the hem of her t-shirt from the waistband of her jeans and tenderly stroked the faint few stretch marks that remained on Grace's belly.
Some day. Not too soon, but some day.
He couldn't wait to do it all over again.