Undecided
Bliss
Max wiped a bead of sweat from his temple as he finished taping a large cardboard box shut. He should check the thermostat.
The temperature in New York could fluctuate a fair bit in the springtime, but the below freezing days seemed to be behind them. Now it was just rainy. And surprisingly warm when you'd spent the better part of your afternoon packing away winter clothing. If everything went according to plan, he'd be on the other side of the world the next time he needed it, which was scary and exciting all at once.
He labeled the box and shoved it into the closet beside the ones he'd already packed, then went to turn the heat down a few degrees. He was wiping the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt when he heard the door open.
"Oh," Mariam drawled. He felt the familiar prickle of her gaze roving over his skin before he dropped the hem. "You're home early." The second sentence was said less enthusiastically and there was something in her smile that didn't reach her eyes, making Max frown.
"Short lectures today," he explained with a shrug. It was nearing the end of the semester and his professors were either running out of material or getting antsy for summer. Either way, he couldn't complain – not with finals coming up, spring break on the horizon, and his girlfriend visiting. "I thought I'd do some more packing so there's less to worry about after graduation."
"Admirable," she said tersely.
Wordlessly, Max closed the distance between them and brushed Mariam's hair out of her eyes. He took great care untangling it from her earring when it snagged, and smoothing it down behind her ear. He could feel her pulse thrum quicker than normal beneath his fingertips where they lingered on her skin.
He wanted to ask what was wrong, and he must have looked as puzzled as he felt, because Mariam sighed and tilted her chin up. Her eyes flickered briefly to his mouth, before meeting his again.
He took it as his invitation to kiss her and leaned in slowly, brushing the tip of her nose with his own, just in case he was misreading. When she didn't object, he sealed their lips together.
It was a chaste, tentative little kiss, but she returned it with a hum all the same. He cupped her jaw properly, letting his other hand trail absently up over her hip with no set destination in mind. It might have taken longer for him to notice she wasn't reciprocating with soft touches of her own, if her posture didn't stiffen more and more the higher his hand moved.
He broke the kiss.
She took a full step back.
"Mariam?"
His question made her break eye contact. He could sense her mind going a mile a minute in a way that it hadn't around him in a long time. It took him back to days spent dancing around each other, fearing a misstep every time he tried getting close to her, fighting to earn her trust.
He took a step forward slowly, like she was a skittish animal that would bolt at the first opportunity.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, becoming increasingly worried when she wouldn't meet his eyes, despite the curt shake of her head. At least she didn't back up again. Or dart out the door. Her arms were locked stubbornly behind her back and they remained there even as he reached over to rub the rounds of her shoulders gently. "Do you wanna talk?"
"I'm fine, Max."
That voice meant she wasn't, but he knew he wouldn't get anywhere arguing with her. Instead, he coasted his hands down over her arms, intent on snagging hers and pulling her close. He never got that far; the telltale rustle of a plastic shopping bag clutched in her hands made him freeze. Or maybe it was the way she jumped at the sound, eyes snapping up to his at the speed of light.
Max didn't look away. He could see a dozen half-formed thoughts flitting through those piercing, green eyes, but none of them gave him any hint as to what Mariam could possibly be so set on concealing from him. Figuratively or literally.
"It's a little early to be shopping for my birthday," he joked with a smile, breaking the oddly charged silence and running one thumb along the handle of the bag wrapped tightly around her wrist. It was wet from the annoying drizzle plaguing the city.
Mariam got an odd look on her face, almost like she was in pain and he felt her wrists flex, a sure sign she was clenching her fists.
"No." Her voice sounded strangled and she was obviously annoyed about the fact. "I'm not early," she said begrudgingly.
"Huh?" Max tilted his head. They both knew when his birthday was. Though he got the feeling that wasn't what she was talking about. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I'm not early, Max," Mariam growled in a sudden burst of what could be anger, clearly expecting him to understand what she was trying to tell him. Her breaths were deep and shaky, pulse speeding to an impossible rate below his thumb. "I'm late."
"You're fine," he said softly, in an attempt to console her. One hand remained on hers. The other he hovered over her waist, her shoulder, her neck, so out of his depth that he wasn't sure where to settle it to calm her down. "You didn't give me a time you'd be back or anything like that."
Mariam cussed in her native tongue. Max thought he saw tears in her eyes for a single alarming second before she wrenched her arm from his grip and shoved the shopping bag into his chest with enough force to send him stumbling back.
"I am late," she said shrilly. "You're the early one, Max – you weren't supposed to be home yet!"
Max almost fumbled the bag, well and truly confused now.
"Mariam, I don't know why you're yelling at me." Normally she was just as happy to come home to him as he was to come home to her. He had no clue what a single plastic bag and its mystery contents could possibly do to change that. "I'm sorry."
She didn't say anything, simply glanced between his befuddled face and the bag he was holding. She seemed stunned, almost like she hadn't expected to actually hand it over.
"I'm sorry," he apologized again, hoping those words would act like a bandaid and fix whatever this was. "Mariam, I…"
Mariam took a deep breath and held it for a long moment before letting it out.
"Open it before I take it back."
It didn't take a genius to know what she was talking about, which was good because he clearly didn't fall into that category right now.
The plastic bag was a classic design: white with "THANK YOU" emblazoned half a dozen times on it in bold, red letters. The handles were tied in a knot, and inside, another bag was wrapped around a self-checkout receipt and a small, oblong box.
He was silent for what felt like at least five minutes, but probably amounted to thirty seconds, staring at the box without registering what he was seeing.
"This—" he gave his head a shake and flipped it over to read the back, then back again to stare at the front. "Is this a pregnancy test?"
Mariam was silent and the tension in the room spiked.
Max suddenly felt dizzy. He ran a hand through his hair, staring wide and unblinkingly at the last thing he would have expected. There was sweat pooling in the center of his back that had nothing to do with the temperature. He needed to sit down. Or open a window. He opted for the former, perching on the arm of the couch.
"Oh," he said emphatically and lifted his head slowly. Mariam looked pale and livid and more beautiful than any woman he'd ever seen – that last one was a daily thing. He didn't mean to glance at her stomach, but he did before he could stop himself. "You're late."
Mariam glared at him and wrapped her arms around herself. "Don't look at me like that, Max," she snapped.
He hadn't realized he was looking at her in any special way. His brain was too busy panicking, and trying desperately not to, to have room for anything else.
"Sorry," he mumbled. His hand was in his hair again. "When did you last…?" He couldn't get anything else past the knot in his throat, so gestured vaguely in her direction.
Mariam didn't look pleased, but caught his meaning and answered anyway, "Before my last visit."
Max blinked.
"But that was almost six weeks ago." He knew – he'd been counting down the days. Every one without her felt more like torture the closer he got to graduation and the shimmering unknown of their future together. So many things they'd decided to put off until he was done with school would soon be possible.
Mariam growled and snatched the box out of his hand so fast that her nails clipped his palm.
"I know!"
As she walked away toward the bedrooms, the world suddenly came into laser sharp focus. Max scrambled after her, feeling less like his head was floating three feet above his body now, even if his heart was still beating at the speed of light.
"Wait!" She only made it a couple steps before he grabbed her wrist. "Mariam, we need to talk about this." He tried pulling her closer, but she resisted, eyes narrowing dangerously. Her anger was a facade he was familiar with, even if he hadn't been used to her looking at him like that for years now.
"There's nothing to talk about, Max," she said, and wrenched her arm out of his grip, dropping the test in the process.
She made no moves to pick it up – she actually backed away – so he did. It felt heavy in his hands for such a small thing; its implications added an immeasurable weight. He felt bad that Mariam had carried all of it by herself since before even buying the test.
"Hold on," he said, frowning as he scraped together a hazy timeline in his head. "You've known since you got here, haven't you?"
Mariam had flown in over the weekend. He remembered thinking that she was quieter than usual when he picked her up, but he'd chalked that up to turbulence and screaming children. She seemed to be back to normal after sneaking a nap on the car ride home. Normal enough to coax him into the shower when they arrived, with needy lips and hands that knew exactly how to make him want her.
Now, knowing what she knew, there was a yawning emptiness in his stomach in place of the burning need.
Never in a million years would he have attributed her mood to a missed period. If he hadn't gotten home early today, he would have been none the wiser.
"Were you not gonna tell me?"
Mariam huffed and rolled her eyes.
"Don't give me that kicked puppy face, Max," she said sardonically. "I don't owe you an explanation about every little thing that goes on with my body."
"You do when that thing could be our baby," he countered, gesturing between the two of them. There was a tightness in his chest that wasn't there before. "Mariam, I'm graduating in less than two months, we live thousands of miles apart until my lease is up – even then we'll be in different countries – and—"
He managed to stop himself before accidentally mentioning the ring he had stashed away, patiently waiting for its permanent home on her finger. A baby would throw a wrench in his plans, that was for sure. Even though they'd talked about it, he could see Mariam refusing his proposal if she thought he was only asking to do right by her and their child.
"Listen to yourself, Max!" Mariam didn't seem to notice his pause, growing more agitated by the second. "Those are all excellent reasons not to say anything."
"So what, you were gonna take the test while I was in class and then do whatever you wanted?" It hurt to know that Mariam had been going about their normal routine, entirely aware that she could be pregnant and unwilling to clue him in. "I'm your boyfriend, Mariam. I thought we were friends, too. How could you keep something like that from me?"
"Why would I tell you?" Mariam hissed. "So you can pick your top five baby names before I even know if I want to do this?!"
"Is that what you think? That I'd steamroll over what you want for the sake of a baby we're not even sure exists?" Mariam was refusing to look at him, retreating further into the cocoon of her arms and the complicated web of her emotions. Torn between feelings of anger and sympathy, he took a step closer and wished she'd let him hold her. "I love you Mariam. I want to help you through this, not force you into anything."
"Well congratulations," she sneered, eyes glinting, "I guess you get to now."
She spun on her heel and strode away, hands balled into fists at her sides.
Max hurried after her.
"Aren't you even going to take it?" he asked incredulously, waving the pregnancy test in the air. Maybe knowing the truth would relax his racing thoughts. At the very least they'd have a definite direction to run in. Something tangible to panic about.
"They're more effective in the morning," Mariam spat, rounding on him like an animal trying to scare away a predator, making him flinch. "I'll take it then."
Just like that the bedroom door slammed shut in his face. He stared, mouth agape. When it became clear she wasn't going to come back out, he let out a frustrated groan and tangled his hands in his hair the best he could holding the test. The corner of the cardboard dug into his cheek.
"Oh man," he mumbled to himself, sliding to the ground and dropping his head onto his knees.
He lost track of how long he sat there wishing that conversation had gone differently and doing his level best not to totally freak out. His butt was numb and his legs were asleep by the time he snapped out of it enough to realize he was hungry.
He stumbled to his feet and dug his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It was nearing dinnertime and the meager lunch he'd whipped together before packing felt like an eternity ago. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.
Mariam was probably hungry as well, especially if she was eating for two. He pretended it was the hunger and not that thought that sent a wave of dizziness washing over him. He needed some air, some time to himself to process. He knew her well enough to know she did, too.
Eager to escape the cloying atmosphere of the apartment for a couple minutes, he shot Mariam a text letting her know he was going out to pick something up. Hopefully he'd come back in a better state of mind.
He left the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter. Its weight stayed with him as he shrugged into his coat, during the elevator ride to the lobby, and out into the damp, chilly night. Even the rhythm his feet beat into the pavement was made heavier by its influence.
What would they do if it was positive?
The thought of a baby by winter made his chest tight and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths of cold night air. It felt realer the more he thought about it, and he didn't know if he wanted to throw up or jump for joy.
He'd be a liar if he said he'd never thought about starting a family with Mariam. Every time they slept together they took steps to actively avoid it – a transcontinental co-parenting relationship while he finished school and she got pitied and scorned by the rest of her village wasn't what they wanted. But sometimes he did entertain the idea of one or two a few years down the line, when they were married, settled into their careers, and living together full-time.
He tried not to get too deep into the fantasy, because really, that was something they needed to decide together. Maybe something they should've talked about before, judging by the way everything had unfolded upstairs. He could agree that the timing wasn't ideal for a baby – the way he was currently chewing his bottom lip raw was a testament to that – but he hadn't realized how torn up over the possibility Mariam would be.
True, she'd never been one to seek out the company of children or ask to hold other women's babies, but neither of them had friends or family with kids that young yet. There had been plenty of times where she watched, with a dose of amusement in her eyes, young fans approach Max to ask for beyblading tips and autographs. She never acted like it was a nuisance and often complimented him on his way with them.
But there was a big difference between being friendly with random children and being responsible for one of your own. If Mariam wasn't ready for that, he didn't blame her – he hardly felt ready himself.
He'd be happy with a future with just the two of them if that's what she wanted. The part of him that entertained visions of kids with glimmering green eyes was dwarfed by the magnitude of his love for her first. There wasn't any fantasy he wanted more than the reality they were building together.
Mariam should know him well enough to come to that conclusion herself. He'd meant what he said earlier about not wanting to force her into anything. Not to mention, if she was pregnant, hiding it from him and shoving it under the rug until there wasn't a choice to make wouldn't help the situation.
He wished he could call one of his friends and talk about it. Hilary would probably know just what to say once she got over the initial shock. But he wouldn't disrespect Mariam's privacy like that. He knew the circle of people she'd trust with the information was probably more of a triangle between herself, her mom, and him, especially if it turned out she was pregnant. Which they had no way of knowing until she took the test.
He kicked a pebble in his path and watched it skitter off the curb and into a storm drain.
"What a mess."
"It's only a little rain," a random passerby answered with a smile.
It took everything in him to smile back.
Mariam wished she could say it was Max's goodbye kiss that woke her up. That would mean she'd actually gotten some sleep instead of spending the majority of her night laying awake with her back to her boyfriend, too keyed up to even have the luxury of tossing and turning.
Every time she shut her eyes she thought of the pregnancy test, hiding somewhere in the apartment, calling to her like a telltale heart beating beneath the floorboards. She should have never even bought the damn thing. She tried not to, but it turned out there was only so many times she could walk past the display and wonder before she had to know for sure. Even then she nearly threw it away twice on her way back to the apartment.
She was still awake in the early hours of the morning when Max's alarm went off. As he rolled out of bed to get ready for class, she feigned sleep. She thought that her mind might quiet once he was gone and allow her to finally get some rest.
Instead, his mumbled "I love you" made her stomach roil with guilt.
Or maybe it's something else, her mind supplied, unhelpfully.
She heard the apartment door shut and counted to one hundred in her head, just in case Max had to double back. Part of her hoped she'd fall asleep if she counted slow enough, but she wasn't that lucky. Still, she stayed in bed, staring at the stark white ceiling until she couldn't stand it any longer.
With a curse, she tossed the blankets aside and rolled out of bed.
Most days the bathroom would be her first stop, but she didn't have the mental capacity for what it would entail this particular morning. She wanted to throw up just thinking about it. When the feeling didn't pass, panic started to set in. Morning sickness? Or just the fact that she hadn't eaten anything in nearly twenty-four hours?
She took a couple deep breaths and padded to the kitchen. She was more willing to test theory number two.
There was coffee brewing already – Max must have known she wasn't really asleep and started it before he left. Mariam felt another pang of guilt. He was altogether too good to her, especially given how she'd flown off the handle the night before. She felt even worse when she found her preferred order from their favorite local pizzeria in the fridge. She'd ignored his text asking what she wanted but, naturally, he knew anyway.
Her stomach growled. She decided not to let his kindness go to waste any longer than she already had and tucked into a glamorous breakfast of cold pizza and hot coffee.
Most days Mariam was glad for the serenity of Max's apartment. Those were days when being alone with herself was a comfort, rather than a breeding ground for guilt and anxiety. Today she needed a distraction – any distraction – but as she glanced around she only got more and more fearful that she'd accidentally set eyes on the pregnancy test.
"Stupid," she muttered derisively to herself and took a sip of her coffee. It was too hot, but she forced it down anyway.
The test wasn't going to jump out and bite her. It was only going to tell her that the relationship she was so comfortable in was about to become a thousand times more complicated. If she hadn't already made sure of that by shoving it on him in a panic, in the first place. Should have kept her cool and taken it privately like she'd planned. Then maybe things wouldn't have to change.
She swore again and it echoed through the empty apartment. She didn't think she could handle that type of change. Not now. Maybe not ever. The whole thing was made worse because she never doubted for a second that Max could.
He was set to graduate with honors, had a handful of job offers on the table, was looking for a place in Japan, and the boxes he'd packed so far were alphabetized. She was standing in his kitchen in her underwear and one of his t-shirts, eating cold pizza and trying to ignore the fact that she had to pee. It was glaringly obvious that only one of them was ready to accept the responsibility of parenthood, and it wasn't her.
Mariam ate another bite of pizza to force the knot of shame out of her throat. It felt like choking down cardboard.
She remembered the girls in her village, girls she'd grown up with, looking at her with pity in their eyes because she didn't have a husband or children like they did. She never cared. She didn't want what they wanted and had accepted long ago that they'd never understand that. She liked coming and going as she pleased, not having to answer to anybody. She had the freedom to make her future whatever she wanted, content in knowing that her choices didn't affect anyone but herself.
But, if she was pregnant, if she had the baby, that was her whole future laid out in front of her. She would never not be a mother. Her choices would always affect somebody small, helpless, and entirely dependent on her, and she could barely keep her own life straight. Was it fair to have a child she knew she'd fail?
Max, on the other hand, would have a choice. She knew what it would be. He'd leap at the chance to be a father. He'd be amazing at it, but it hurt to know that she'd be to blame for him sacrificing his future with a smile on his face.
Then, when he proposed, Judy would think Mariam got pregnant on purpose to trap her son and ruin his prospects. The tabloids would say he only married her for the sake of the baby. It was prideful, but she hated knowing that some people would never believe Max could simply love her without having their child as an excuse to stay.
She finished her food despite the fact that it was entirely unappetizing now. Her brain wanted to spin that into even more proof that she was pregnant. She needed to get the hell out of the apartment or she'd drive herself nuts.
Once she threw the pizza box away and rinsed her coffee mug to use tomorrow, she grabbed the first clothes she could find and made a beeline for the bathroom, intent on a shower.
Mariam stopped dead when she crossed the threshold, eyes immediately glued to the box on the counter. All of a sudden her heart was racing and her stomach was protesting again. She should have known it would be in here waiting for her.
With bated breath, she closed the door behind her, unsure if her motivation was isolating herself with it or cutting off her escape route. She crossed the room in a handful of slow steps. Her change of clothes was set aside so she could pick up the box with shaking hands. She bit her lip and shuffled her feet, turning the box over and over.
It was weird to think that such an innocuous thing held the answers to her future inside. She knew she should take it and get it over with. It's what she told Max she was going to do and, especially now that he knew, the problem wasn't going to disappear because she ignored it.
Problem was, the longer she held the stupid thing, the less she wanted to know. It was easier to stay in limbo where yeah she might be pregnant, but she probably wasn't, than to get a definite answer one way or the other.
But she needed to know.
Screw it.
The rest of the room became hazy around her as she took a steadying breath and tore the box open. She tipped the contents out onto the vanity: two tests – which was good because her hands were still shaking and if she dropped it in the toilet she'd just have to slink back to the store for another – and the instructions.
Her heart accelerated.
She read the instructions first. Tried to, at least. Her brain unhelpfully skipped every third word and her stomach tied itself in increasingly intricate knots as she went along. She started over twice. By the third time, she was ready to chuck the box and its contents down the elevator shaft and she kind of felt like crying.
"Forget it," she hissed and stuffed everything back in the box. There was no way of sealing it back up, so she shut it in a drawer to deal with later.
What she needed, right now, was to pulverize some idiots in the park who thought they could beyblade with the best. Maybe with some distance everything would feel less life-or-death. At the very least, maybe she could win enough battles to keep from feeling like such a coward.
For the first time in a long time, Max couldn't pay attention in class. He kept checking his phone, expecting a text from Mariam or for time to be passing faster than it was. He was disappointed on both accounts. Part of him was afraid he'd get home only to find out his girlfriend had booked the earliest flight out of New York, leaving him high and dry without answers.
He didn't want to believe that of her, especially after coming home to an open bedroom door the night before. He'd taken it as an olive branch at the time – and extended his own by starting the coffee pot for her this morning – but now the distance between them was letting the doubt creep in.
When his last professor dismissed them, he practically bolted for the door.
Naturally he caught every red light possible on his drive home. He spent the extra time strumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel and obsessively changing the radio station. He was dying to call Mariam, but he'd be back soon enough and she likely wouldn't answer. Even if she was willing, her phone was probably off.
The elevator from the parking garage moved at half it's usual speed and the hallway to his apartment seemed to stretch impossibly far.
For all the hurrying around he did to get home to his girlfriend, he stopped short of letting himself inside. His keys dangled uselessly from his hand and a dozen worst case scenarios fluttered through his head, some where Mariam was pregnant, some where she wasn't.
He had no idea what life would look like if she was. It never occurred to him to ask about paternity leave when job hunting. Without being married, could Mariam even live with him in Japan? Or would he have to fly to China to see his family? How would they possibly make that work? How could anybody's relationship survive that dynamic?
His fleeting thoughts on expanding their family had always slotted into the mysterious future of their life together, somewhere after the wedding and a few blissful years spent with just the two of them. The novelty of having her all to himself every day would satisfy him for at least that long – forever if that's what she wanted.
That was all up in the air now, dependent on the results of the test she took that morning. He didn't know if it was a good or bad thing that he hadn't heard from her on the matter. He did know that he wouldn't find out if he didn't go inside.
He took a deep breath, nodded to himself, and unlocked the door.
The first thing he noticed were the takeout bags in the kitchen, which meant Mariam had to be nearby. His suspicions were confirmed when she appeared from deeper in the apartment sporting wet hair and some of his oldest, comfiest pajamas. Her arms were crossed, but she didn't look defensive. Mostly she looked tired.
"Mariam!"
He pulled her into his embrace without hesitation, never able to keep away from her for long. It was awkward with her arms folded between them and the chill of her wet hair soaking through his shirt, but when her head rested gently on his shoulder, he knew he wouldn't have it any other way.
Her body swelled with a sigh and he rubbed his hand over her back.
"Hey, Max."
She untangled her arms and let her palms rest on his chest, lengthening the distance between them a tad. Just enough that she could meet his eyes. Her own were unreadable when she dipped her head back down and cleared her throat.
"I brought dinner," she said with a nod to the kitchen as she took a step back. He could sense the unspoken apology in her tone. "It should still be hot."
She was across the room before he realized what was happening, unloading the bags onto the dining table.
Max had a weird, sinking feeling in his stomach. He followed her to the table, grabbing utensils and drinks along the way. When her path took her past him, he grabbed her wrist. She whipped around, and he used his thumb to stroke his own apology into her skin.
"Did you…" He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. Mariam watched the motion with a careful gaze. "Are you…" His second try didn't get him any farther. He scowled, annoyed with himself. If he couldn't even bring himself to say the words, how was he going to react to whatever news she had?
Mariam either took pity on him or didn't want to hear it said aloud. With a shrug, she replied, "Your guess is as good as mine."
Max deflated.
"You didn't take it?" The disappointment in his voice was obvious, even to himself. He'd spent the better part of his day stressing out about whether or not he was going to be a father and what that meant for them, and she hadn't even taken the test. His voice cracked when he asked, "Why?"
"I forgot," she said without looking at him.
It was the most blatant lie he'd ever been told.
"You forgot?"
"Give me a break, Max!" she exclaimed as she divided a portion of rice between two plates with a scowl. "Taking a pregnancy test isn't exactly a normal part of my morning routine."
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out something he'd regret. They'd both done plenty of that the night before and he didn't want a repeat. He could see the fatigue in Mariam's posture and he knew she hadn't slept. This whole thing was eating away at her, too.
"That's not the kind of abnormal you'd forget," he said quietly as he studied her.
She growled and shoved the empty rice container in the trash forcefully.
"You know what Max? If you want someone to take it so bad, why don't you piss on it?" Her voice had a hollow edge to it as she rolled her eyes at him, belying her anger. He was beginning to realize it was a facade for something else. She took a shaky breath, then a more forceful one, and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Mariam—"
"Drop it!" she snapped. Then, more gently, "Can we please just drop it?"
When she looked at him, he could see the desperation in her eyes. As irritated as he was, he needed to remember that whatever the test said would affect her more by default. And it wouldn't change how much he loved her.
"Yeah, okay," he acquiesced, and took a seat. "We'll talk about it later?"
She nodded reluctantly and sank into the chair across from him.
If he didn't bring it back up, he got the feeling they would not be talking about it later.
Mariam ate with her eyes down and her body remarkably stiff for how tired she looked. She'd brought Chinese home, something he'd noticed she did when she was missing home or having a particularly rough day. Even if it couldn't hold a candle to her mother's cooking, it was familiar enough to be comforting.
Max sighed. It was too bad Ilea wasn't here – she would know what to say to her daughter. Maybe she'd even felt the same uncertainty Mariam was feeling right now at some point. He wondered if she had any idea what Mariam was going through, but he didn't dare ask.
Instead, he tried starting more neutral conversations a couple times, but they fizzled out quickly as Mariam participated less and less. He couldn't blame her. It felt weird talking about his day at school when they both had bigger and scarier things on their minds.
The silence stretched on as they ate and followed them through the cleanup, too.
Once the trash was taken out and the dishwasher was running, Max tossed his backpack over his shoulder and relocated to the spare room to study.
Surprisingly, Mariam followed. She settled herself cross-legged on the bed and began to methodically dismantle and clean Sharkrash. The gentle clink of the metal parts and the scratch of Max's pencil on paper were the only sounds, highlighting the heavy silence still present.
Max knew better than to mistake Mariam joining him as an invitation to talk about the test again. She seemed determined as ever to pretend things were normal. He was tempted to go along with it to avoid spending her entire visit longing for closeness as much as he did when she was gone.
But they were both doing a bad job at pretending; Mariam kept fumbling pieces of her beyblade and his notes were a jumbled mess. He sighed.
"Mariam?" He turned to her and caught the look of dread on her face before she could conceal it. "We need to talk about this."
"Max…" she warned.
"Why not just take the test now?" he asked before he could back down. It was the one thing that could get them out of this weird limbo. And once they knew for sure one way or another, then they could figure out how to proceed. "We don't even need to look at it right away." That didn't mean he wouldn't want to – he wouldn't get one wink of sleep not knowing – but whatever made things easier on Mariam.
"Max, I'm tired," she protested, gathering up Sharkrash's parts – minus the bit chip that she slid into her pocket – and setting them on the bedside table, "and I told you – it's better to do it in the morning."
"You were gonna take it the day you bought it!" That still stung, but it was easier to push his hurt feelings aside when he knew she was acting out of fear. "What's the difference between now and then?"
Mariam just shook her head.
"You don't get it, Max," she said, sliding off the bed and beating a hasty retreat from the room.
Max scrambled to his feet and followed. This time he was prepared and managed to catch the bedroom door when she flung it shut behind her.
"Then help me understand," he implored as he stepped into the room. Mariam had her back to him, holding herself in a vice-like grip. He left the door open a crack so she wouldn't feel completely cornered. "I'm not walking away from you, Mariam. Please, just talk to me."
He saw her breath hitch, but there was no sign of tears in her voice when she muttered, "I don't feel the way you feel about this, Max."
"How do you think I feel about it?" he asked gently, taking a few cautious steps in her direction and watching her shoulders tense with each one. "We haven't gotten a chance to really discuss it."
Mariam scoffed and rounded on him.
"I know you, Max," she said, and even though there was an accusatory tone as she spoke, Max could only be glad that she was finally letting her walls down. "Once you got over the shock, you started planning ways to make this work – picking and choosing your sacrifices, getting it all straight so you can come to me and tell me how you'll fix it. And the only thing I can focus on is how scared I am!"
Her chest was heaving when she finished her rant. She looked like she regretted saying most of it out loud, but the important thing was that he now knew how she felt.
Mariam walked towards him in long strides, gaze locked on the door behind him, but he intercepted her. Her momentum brought the hand he'd been reaching for her waist with to the center of her stomach. It didn't feel any different. Would it soon? Or were they both freaking out over nothing? She pushed it away before he could ponder for too long, but made no other moves for the door.
"Just because I want to talk about it doesn't mean I'm not scared too, Mariam," he said softly. To test the waters, he wrapped his fingers loosely around her wrist. When she didn't pull away, he slipped his hand into hers and squeezed. "A baby's a big deal, but—"
She cut him off with a bitter laugh.
"A baby right now would ruin everything," she said lowly, refusing to look at him. The hand he wasn't holding had found its way into her pocket and he'd bet money she was clutching Sharkrash's bit chip.
Max smiled, remembering a time not too awful long ago when she wouldn't have sought comfort from her bitbeast. Sharkrash used to be a means to an end and Max used to be a plucky kid insistent on being her friend. Time changed a lot of things. Maybe the thought of a baby wouldn't be scary forever.
With gentle hands, he guided Mariam deeper into the room. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and pulled her down beside him. The mattress dipped just enough to ensure they were sitting hip to hip. She didn't shy away when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"Maybe not," he said, not trying to convince her so much as he was trying to assuage her fears. "I don't know if there's ever a perfect time. My parents weren't married, and...well…" He trailed off, realizing too late that he'd put his foot in it.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Mariam asked incredulously, shrugging out from under his arm. The look on her face made him wince. "I love you, Max, but if that's the most stability we could give a child, then a baby is definitely out of the question."
"Wait, Mariam." He took her hand in both of his and squeezed it tight. "I only meant that they made it work with a weaker foundation than you and I have. If this is something that's really happening and we decide to go ahead with it, we'll make sure we don't repeat my parents' mistakes."
Max wore his heart on his sleeve, and over the years his friends had witnessed plenty of his love for his parents, as well as the heartache their arrangement caused him. But there were things he'd shared with Mariam, twisted conclusions he'd come to as a child, that nobody else knew.
Logically, he knew the strain on his parents' relationship wasn't his fault, and the fact that he sometimes felt otherwise was something he'd learned to navigate. With the benefit of hindsight, he could confidently say his parents had done their best with what they had, but that didn't mean he wasn't hoping to do better for his own children someday.
"Your mom put her life on hold to have you and regretted it, Max." He could tell Mariam was making a marked effort to handle the sensitive subject with care, even in the midst of her stress. He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles as she continued, "She'll hate me even more for holding you back."
Max froze.
"You wouldn't be holding me back, Mariam," he said vehemently, once he found his voice. "I'd never want you, or any child we may or may not have, to feel that way. I love you and you know I want a life with you – what my mom thinks doesn't even come into the equation."
Judy could have as many conniptions as she wanted. She was well aware his mind was made up on Mariam.
His train of thought was interrupted when Mariam reached, with fingers still intertwined with his, to stroke his face. He could feel them move through the back of her hand and loosened the hold he'd let get too tight. He kissed her knuckles again, this time as an apology.
"Let's not base any decision we make on whether or not it disappoints my mom," he said, letting their held hands fall to rest on their legs. "A baby would change things, but I don't think it would ruin anything. And one thing it definitely wouldn't change is how I feel about you."
There was something else on the tip of Mariam's tongue, but she didn't know how to say it. He could tell by the way she was squinting into the middle distance with a thoughtful frown. When a whole minute of silence had gone by, only punctuated by breaths he could tell she was purposefully steadying, he reached over and smoothed the line between her eyebrows with his thumb.
"What are you thinking?" he asked quietly, hoping not to deter her.
She inhaled deeply, then let it out.
"What if I don't want things to change?" She looked at him with a challenge in her eyes. The longer he stared back, the easier it was to see the fear underneath. "How would you feel about me then?"
Max's immediate instinct was to pull her close and assure her that her decision made no difference to him, but he bit his tongue. The last thing he wanted was to lie, even inadvertently, and hurt them both in the long run. So he thought about it, what a positive test would mean for them.
If they kept the baby, the next few years would look a lot different than he'd pictured. Not ruined, but probably more challenging in a lot of ways. Max trusted that, if they put their minds to it together, everything would work out just fine. They'd adapt, fall into new routines and grow closer as a result. If there was ever a person Max would want to start a family with, it would for sure be Mariam.
But if that wasn't what she wanted… His mind drifted sideways, and he found himself imagining a scenario where the baby drove a wedge between them instead. A life where Mariam spent her days caring for their child and her nights dreaming of escape. She was worried about sacrifices he'd make, but the last thing he wanted was for her to spend the rest of their life together feeling trapped.
Put into that perspective, he knew without a doubt what his true answer was. He shifted his position, bending one knee on the mattress so he could face Mariam head-on. She raised an eyebrow at him. He squeezed her hand.
"No matter what, I'll still love you, Mariam," he said sincerely. "I meant what I said yesterday – I don't want to force you into anything. I want a life together. And if we decide to bring a kid into the picture, I want both of us to be one hundred percent behind the decision."
Mariam blinked, appearing momentarily overwhelmed, before looking away and nodding to herself.
Before he knew it, he had his arms full of her; she climbed gingerly into his lap, wrapping both her arms and legs around him. Her forehead came to rest on his shoulder. Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt like he was her last lifeline. He held her close, more than happy to never let go.
"I don't know if I know what I want," she whispered reluctantly. "I used to know…" She trailed off and somehow sunk deeper into their embrace.
He pressed a tender kiss to her scalp and tried not to read too much into her words. Her hair was still damp and smelled like his shampoo. He focused on that and took a deep breath.
"Well, the longer we wait, the less options we'll have, right?" he prompted gently, skimming a hand over her back.
Mariam made a noise to the affirmative, but he could tell she wasn't pleased to admit it.
They stayed like that for a while, cuddled up together as the sun began to set outside. It had started drizzling again, and the soft, white noise paired with Mariam's even breathing was making Max's eyelids droop. It was too early to go to sleep, but he was tempted to suggest they do just that.
The spell was broken when Mariam turned her head to rest sideways on his shoulder instead. It was either the cold from her wet hair or her breath against his neck that gave him goosebumps. He shivered.
"I'm sorry, Max," Mariam mumbled and hugged him tighter. He thought she meant for the goosebumps before she elaborated, "About yesterday."
"Oh." In light of the conversation they just had, yesterday felt like a faraway memory. He ran a hand through Mariam's hair, knowing full well he was going to end up with a few strands stuck to his fingers and not caring. "It's all right, Mariam. We were both stressed and–"
"But you were right, Max," she interrupted, sitting up to look him in the eyes. She looked exhausted; maybe they could have that early bedtime after all. "I should have told you from the start what was going on. It wasn't fair of me to hide it."
Gently, he cupped her face with his hands. She leaned into the touch immediately and covered his hands with hers, eyes a turbulent mix of emotions he was grateful to be privy to once more.
"Well, I'm sorry for making you think I wouldn't support your choice." Her skin was impossibly soft beneath his thumb when he stroked her cheek. "I don't ever want you to feel trapped with me, Mariam."
"It wasn't really that," she said haltingly. One of her hands traveled down to grip his forearm as she gathered her thoughts. "I knew you'd be supportive. I just didn't want you agreeing to anything you'd regret, and…" She trailed off, breaking eye contact.
Max let go of her face to hold her hands instead and gave them an encouraging squeeze.
Mariam took a deep breath and cursed in her native tongue.
"I don't think I can handle a baby right now," she admitted, hands twitching in his, "but I don't know if I'll never want one." Then she met his eyes with renewed determination. "I do know that you're the only person I'd ever want a child with, and that's part of what makes this so hard."
He didn't know why he was blushing all of a sudden or where the butterflies in his stomach had come from – he didn't even know if they were good or bad. It was his turn to take a deep breath.
"You're the only person I'll ever want, period," he said with a goofy smile, barely managing a response through the static. "We'll make this work, no matter what happens. No matter what you decide. If you change your mind down the road, I won't hold it against you."
There was a shimmering glint in Mariam's eyes that he understood to be a thank you. She twisted in his arms and pulled one up over her shoulder so she could guide them both, in a tangled heap, down onto the mattress. Max couldn't tell where one of them ended and the other began and it was immensely comforting.
"I don't know what to do," she confessed in a small voice.
Max laid there trying to think, but struggling through the emotional exhaustion that was catching up with them both. He was happy that they seemed to finally be on the same page: unsure and scared, kids a possibility, but not a definite, ideally not right now. They could figure this out.
"You need to take the test, Mariam," he said, stroking her hair, her back, any part of her he could reach to console. "Once we know for sure, we can decide what our next step will be."
He felt her sigh, followed by her answering nod.
"Tomorrow morning, then? If that's better?" He was already formulating plans to email his professors to take the day off. None of them would care – he was a good student and hadn't missed a day all semester. The thought of going to class while so much hung in the balance at home was laughable. "We can do it together."
When she kissed him, soft and sweet, he took it as a 'yes'.
For a beautiful, brief moment when she woke up, Mariam forgot about anything that wasn't the lingering smell of Max's aftershave. Her face was pressed so close to his neck that she could feel her eyelashes brush against his skin when she opened her eyes.
And then she remembered there was a pregnancy test waiting in the bathroom for her.
With a groan she untangled her arm from what she thought was the covers for a split second, until she realized she'd fallen asleep with her hand up underneath Max's shirt the night before. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth he radiated never failed to soothe her; it wouldn't be the first time she unconsciously sought them out. The result was the best night's sleep she'd had in weeks.
She stifled a yawn, and squinted towards the clock to see if she could sneak in some more shuteye before facing reality. The blackout curtains did their job well – she wouldn't have known it was almost ten if she hadn't checked.
Mariam sat up. The drowsy delirium of sleep dissolved when she realized Max had missed his first class.
She muttered a curse and gave her boyfriend's shoulder a shake.
"Max, wake up."
"Mmm… Huh?"
"You're missing school." A small, selfish part of her hoped this meant she'd make it another day without taking the pregnancy test. She felt better after their talk the night before, but she couldn't help the feelings of unease that were creeping back in. "It's almost ten."
Max blinked blearily. She thought he looked cute when he first woke up, all messy hair and puffy eyes. She'd see that look a lot if there was a baby waking them up at all hours soon. She winced. That thought came to her as unbidden as the wave of nerves souring her stomach.
"Oh!" Max exclaimed, slapping his hand to his forehead with wide eyes as realization hit. "I was already up a few hours ago. I emailed my professors and took the day off."
There went her last excuse.
"Max, you don't take days off."
Her stress must have been reflected in her voice, because he hit her with a look that was far too serious for his sleep-lined face. The understanding glint in his eyes melted into one of complete devotion, and he rolled over to pillow his head on her thighs.
"You're more important," he said honestly. The look in his blue eyes made Mariam want to run and hide. Or sink further in. She couldn't quite decide. Max smiled, and continued, "I thought, no matter what the results are, I wouldn't want to have to run out the door right after."
"Okay." Mariam nodded, absentmindedly lacing her fingers into his hair. She didn't have any profound words. Couldn't choke anything more than that past the knot in her throat.
"Are you nervous?" Max asked after a beat.
He was toying with the tie of her pajama pants, wrapping it around his finger, while watching her, gauging her reaction. He winced when her fingers clenched in his hair of their own volition, tugging at the root.
She muttered an apology and eased up. Obviously she was nervous.
She didn't want things to change, and they were bound to after this. She was terrified of complicating their safe and familiar relationship in a way that would smash it to smithereens. Maybe, if last night and the day before hadn't done it, nothing would.
But the unknown made her feel sick and her doubts were still doubts. She trusted Max to stand by her through it all, but there was no way they could promise forever in every eventuality. And she couldn't promise herself zero regrets. Not to mention the thought of actually carrying a baby and giving birth made her sweat bullets.
But what scared her most were the things she couldn't bring herself to tell him, like the fact that just wondering if a child would inherit his dimples was enough to make her want to find out sometimes.
Nervous was probably an understatement.
"What do you think?" she asked sarcastically.
Max gently took her hand and kissed the tip of each finger, her palm, and lingered last on the thundering pulse in her wrist. He maintained a heavy eye contact the entire time, and if Mariam didn't have a potential pregnancy hanging over her head, she would have definitely kissed him senseless. Instead she kind of wanted to cry again. Stress? Or hormones?
She groaned and fell back onto the pillows.
"It's gonna be okay, Mariam." Max sat up, but didn't let go of her hand. His hair was even messier now, but his eyes were clear. "Step one is just opening the box."
"Ha," Mariam remarked bitterly, running her free hand through her own knotty hair. "I already did that."
"See?" Max grinned and slid from the bed, pulling her with him. "We're making progress already."
Mariam's nervous stomach worsened the second they crossed the threshold into the bathroom. Normally she didn't care if Max was around when she used the restroom – they were past that point in the relationship – but something about taking a pregnancy test felt more intimate. She fought the urge to shove him out and lock the door by squeezing his hand tighter.
He squeezed back reassuringly.
With another deep breath, Mariam opened the drawer where she'd hidden the test the day before and took it out. A feeling of déja vu washed over her as she emptied the box onto the counter. She had to let go of Max's hand to unfold the instructions. In the end, her own were shaking too much to read what the paper said.
She cursed under her breath and blinked blinked away a sudden burning sensation. She hated this.
"Here," Max mumbled from closer behind her than she'd realized. He took the instructions off of her and cupped her hip to pull her back against his chest. "It's okay."
Mariam focused on the firmness of his grip and the rhythm of his breathing while he read the instructions over her shoulder.
"Do you want to use a cup?"
It took her a second to figure out what he meant. When it clicked, she shook her head. If she didn't take the test before she lost her nerve, she might find her way back to the park with Sharkrash. Better to get it over with and not waste more time finding a cup neither of them cared about her peeing in. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and picked up one of the tests.
"Do you need me to hold it for you?"
She was still shaking a little bit when she shot him an annoyed glare. He was only trying to help, but there was no way she was letting him have that much of a front row seat.
He held up his hands to placate her and hoisted himself onto the counter. He waited patiently while she did what she had to do. She thought she heard him exhale when she finally capped the test and set it aside to wait the necessary three minutes.
"Should we watch it?" he asked, reaching for his phone so he could set a timer.
"No!" She didn't even want to be in the room with it, let alone look at it. She could feel Max eyeing her, his concern palpable.
"Come here."
Mariam closed the distance between them and Max scooted to the edge of the counter to hold her as closely as possible. Ensconced in his embrace, Mariam could tell he was anxious too by the pace of his heartbeat under her cheek. It was comforting to know that she wasn't the only one hanging on by a thread.
"It's gonna be okay," he repeated the same sentiment from earlier.
"You don't know that, Max." All of the thoughts he'd banished the night before came flooding back with a vengeance: the senseless fear of losing him if she didn't want the baby, the realization that her life was decided for her if she did, all of it. Her stomach rolled and she clenched his shirt in her fists.
"I do, though." His voice was firm, but his touch was gentle when he tilted her chin up so they were looking right at one another. The nervousness from seconds before was gone; he looked resolute. "I love you, Mariam. We've been through so much together. Just because the results of that test will impact us both for a long time, doesn't make me any less confident that we'll get through this too."
"Max…"
"And as long as we get through it together," he interrupted, stroking her cheek gently, "I think we can call it a win."
Mariam sighed.
"That's a low bar, Max."
He grinned that lopsided grin, dimples on full display.
"Then everything will be okay," he said with conviction.
All at once she was a kid again, standing on a saloon rooftop, knowing without a doubt that Max was one she could believe in. Like he'd promised, he'd kept Draciel safe ever since, no matter how daunting of a task that turned out to be. Maybe it was time to admit he would do the same for her heart.
If they had a baby, how could she not love something that was half Max?
She tugged him forward with enough force to make him slide off the counter entirely. His momentum almost tipped them both over backwards but, in the scramble to keep from falling over, she managed to find his lips with hers.
The kiss was clumsy and messy until Mariam's finesse caught up with her desire. A small adjustment to their angle, her arm around his neck, and she was kissing him hard enough to bruise. Her fervor made it impossible for Max to gain the upper hand, so he let her keep her advantage, sighing into her mouth.
If they were in bed, this would be when he'd fall back against the mattress, totally at her mercy.
Her teeth sunk into his bottom lip with that thought, eliciting a groan from him that reverberated throughout both their bodies. His hands started to venture up her shirt, thumbs skimming over her belly, making it flutter instead of churn, as he traced her waist.
They both jumped when the timer went off.
Mariam took a reluctant step back, heart thundering in her ears.
"It's gonna be okay," Max reminded her and tucked some hair behind her ear.
She trusted he was right, even if it felt like the room was spinning. She wrapped her arms around herself. There was nothing left to do but see what it said.
"You look." She couldn't.
Max faltered briefly. It seemed like neither of them could get a perfect handle on their nerves. Mariam wondered how they'd react to whatever the results were. She didn't have to wonder for long.
"Okay."
Max nodded and visibly steeled himself, before turning around to pick up the test. He was quiet for a while, just staring at it, wheels visibly turning. Mariam held her breath, wishing he would get on with it already, a dozen different scenarios playing out in her head.
After a second, he let out a breathy laugh. His hand tangled in his hair again, combing through but somehow messing it up more.
"What?" she asked urgently. She took half a step forward, tempted to pluck the stupid stick from his grasp, but too frightened at the same time. "What, Max?"
"It's negative."
Mariam blinked.
"What?"
He held it up for proof and she grabbed his wrist to get a steady look. The words "Not Pregnant" made it clear enough.
"Oh," she exhaled. The next breath she took came easier as something akin to relief washed over her. Her heart was still beating rapidly, but the longer she stared at those two words, the more she believed them. It was like coming up for air after being underwater for a long time. "But, I really thought…"
She let his wrist go and sought his eyes with hers. He would be the last person to judge her for making a big fuss over nothing – he was too nice for that – but she was curious about his reaction. She hoped he'd been honest about what he wanted.
Max looked relieved, then guilty when he noticed her watching. He gave her a meek smile.
"I know everything would have worked out," he said, placing the test back on the counter top like it was something fragile. Mariam wanted to chuck it in the trash. Might have done if Max hadn't laced their fingers together and dipped his head down to press his forehead to hers. "But I'm glad we don't need to rush into any big decisions."
Mariam felt the accumulative weight from the past few weeks lift from her shoulders. She'd quiz her mom about why she'd missed her first period in ten years later. Right now she wanted to bask in the relief.
"Me too," she sighed into the space between them, feeling free and grateful and so in love with Max that she didn't know how to handle it. So she tucked her face into her favorite spot under his chin, wrapped her arms around his rib cage, and squeezed tight. "Sorry."
"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Mariam," Max said, sweet as ever. He returned the embrace with one hand on the back of her head and the other in the center of her spine; purposeful touches that grounded her like nothing else could.
"Not even stressing us both out for nothing?" she asked sarcastically, raising one eyebrow even thought he wouldn't see it.
"We didn't know it was nothing," he pointed out, letting go of her waist to reach behind himself. She assumed he was going for the test, but was proved wrong when she felt the first pass of a brush through her hair. "That was the part that made it stressful – not anything you did."
She didn't comment at first, content to let him pamper her in silence. Max was never one to rush through doting on her and took his time combing through every snarl. When he finished and set the brush to the side, she lifted her head up to make eye contact.
"That's up for debate." She couldn't manage too serious of an expression when he started raking through her hair with his fingers instead. In fact, she had to adjust her footing to keep from sliding boneless to the floor.
Max smirked, one dimple clearly visible.
"If that's the case, let's just say you're right and skip the argument," he said with audible amusement. He stopped his ministrations to rest one knuckle under her chin. His other hand was sneaking up under her shirt. "I'll accept a kiss as an apology for the stress."
"Hmm… you don't want breakfast first?" Mariam teased, grazing her hands up over his chest and thoroughly enjoying the way his blue eyes widened. He shouldn't be surprised she was better at this game.
"What about," he began, hoisting her up into his arms suddenly enough that she had to scramble for his shoulders to avoid falling backward, "apology first. Then I'll wash your back in the shower to prove there really are no hard feelings?"
Mariam snorted. The uncharacteristically smug look on his face did make her want to kiss him, if only so it would disappear.
"I already showered last night, genius." She'd had to after breaking a sweat at the park. In her overemotional state she might have smashed more beyblades than strictly necessary, but the competition was more cocky than they should have been first. "But maybe if you ask nice."
Max seemed to take that as a challenge, because when he leaned into to trail a string of slow kisses up her neck, 'nice' would be a modest way to describe the feeling. The combination of his lazy pace and every hot exhale against her skin made her head tip to the side. At the rough scratch of his stubble against her skin, Mariam hummed, digging her fingers into his shoulder.
"Can I have my kiss now?" he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. He had the audacity to chuckle at her reaction.
"Okay, fine," she drawled with a roll of her eyes. He'd get what was coming to him.
Mariam tightened her legs around his waist, steadying herself so she could frame his face in her grasp. She made a show of smoothing his hair back and dancing her fingers around his hairline with a feather-light touch. She studied him closely, looking for constellations in the freckles splashed across his cheeks. She bit her lip to keep from smirking at his lovesick expression and watched his eyes involuntarily snap to the movement.
Then she leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose.
He went cross-eyed trying to watch her and looked stunned when she pulled away.
"Hey!" he exclaimed through surprised laughter, adjusting his hold on her from where all her moving had made her start to slide. "That's not what I meant."
"Lunch then, after our shower?" Mariam suggested, ignoring his complaint. There was no way they'd make it out of the apartment in time for breakfast at this point, and she was actually hungry now that the fear and uncertainty had abated. "It'll be my treat. There's one benefit to all of this."
"Uh, growing closer as a couple?" Max asked. He seemed a little distracted by the fact that she'd started to trace his bicep; goosebumps were blooming under the pads of her fingers.
"I don't know if you could get much closer," she pointed out, relishing in the fact that she felt up to toying with him again. And also the fact that the arm not under her butt was sliding up the back of her shirt again, seemingly of its own volition. When Max blushed, she knew she'd won the upper hand. "Anyway, I was going to say the last few days have been the best ones I've ever had at the park. Very lucrative."
Max chuckled and threw one last curve ball: "If you work that well under stress, I think we might actually do just fine with a baby."
Any butterflies in her stomach were strictly from anticipation as he nudged the shower door open. Definitely not excitement from his vote of confidence.
"Let's not push our luck."
A/N: More Grownup Conversations for these two. So proud of them. Even though they somehow made me almost double the fic's word count with this one chapter. I'll do my best not to hold a grudge.
I'm sorry this update took so long. As hard as I tried I just could not vibe with my original idea for this chapter and ended up dragging my feet until this one came along. It's a little different than anything I've written before so I wasn't sure how it would go, but once I was a few thousand words in I figured it was worth running with. Hopefully someone out there agrees!
In any case, as long as things go according to plan, I think we'll be taking a break from heavier topics in the next couple of chapters. Thanks for reading and see you next time! :)