Ha! I'd like to know the answer to that one myself. Instead of saying that, however, I answered, "We're married. I'm just not sure we're going to stay married after the baby gets older."
My brother straightened his spine, rigid and full of righteous anger. "Is he already talking about divorce?"
"For crying out loud, Scott, no, he isn't. I am! I'm the one who's pregnant, without insurance, and still in grad school. I don't even have a full-time job. I'm not exactly a great catch and I don't want Jay to feel like he has to stay with me for the sake of the baby. I don't want to trap him into a marriage he doesn't want and I don't want to be stuck with one either. We weren't exactly dating when I got pregnant so I don't even know if we can tolerate living with each other in the long term. We're figuring it out as we go, which is probably the smartest choice, and it's none of your darn business, so BUTT OUT!"
Scott rocked back on his heels as I rose on my toes so my face was right in his. Then, he stepped back and stuck his finger in his left ear and jiggled it. After a few moments of silence, he finally said, "You're right. It's not my business and I'm sorry I upset you."
I stared at him in shock. I think this was the first time I'd ever heard my brother admit that he was wrong about anything. Or apologize to me.
"But I happen to disagree with at least part of what you said." He reached down and took my free hand. "You are a great catch. Any man would be the luckiest, pardon my language here, sonuvabitch on the planet to be married to you. I'm still not even sure there's a man on this planet that deserves you because you're probably too good for all of us. So get that thought out of your head, okay?" He squeezed my fingers as he spoke.
"Okay." I exhaled, long and slow. "Sorry I yelled at you."
He grinned. "It's okay. I figure your hormones probably have a lot to do with it."
He was so, so lucky I was out of tea because he would have been wearing the cold remains of it in that moment.
"As opposed to being upset by the fact that I have four nosy, bossy, annoying brothers who think they have a right to question everything I do?" I asked sweetly, batting my eyelashes at him.
Being a reasonably intelligent man with experience in people planning violence against his person, Scott released my hand and took two huge steps back away from me.
"Uh, that's right. I'm just, um, going to see if they need any more help inside," he stated before he practically ran into the house.
I looked around my yard and peered into my storage shed. It was a little strange to have everyone over here on a weekend. Until recently, I typically only saw my brothers at family events like birthdays, holidays, and the occasional barbeque or weenie roast. Once in a while, I'd get a phone call or run into them in town, but this was the first time they'd taken a real interest in me since they'd graduated high school.
As irritating as they could be, I was touched by their efforts to help me.
I laid a hand on my belly where my baby was growing. It was the first time I'd really acknowledged its existence. Between the stress of school and worries about money and medical care, I hadn't given a lot of thought to what a miracle a baby was. Especially one that had been conceived despite the fact that J.J. and I had used condoms every single time we'd had sex.
"You're a miracle in more ways than one, jelly bean," I whispered.
14
Within a couple of days, J.J. and I settled into sort of a routine.
He was an early riser, just like I was, though he tended to exercise in the morning, and I liked to work in the garden before the heat of the day hit. Not that I minded seeing him come back from his run shirtless or using the weights he'd brought over to the house.
We ate dinner together both nights. And on Sunday night, as he had done the week before we got married, J.J. cooked several healthy dishes and portioned them out into meals for his lunch for the upcoming week and he'd done the same for me. I helped as much as he would let me, but since my feet had swollen up so badly on Friday, he wanted me to sit down and put them up as much as possible. I tried to explain that the swelling was from being on my feet all day in those heels, but he was insistent I rest.
It was strange to spend so much time sitting down when I was usually up and going all weekend long, either for work or with household tasks that needed to be caught up on.
We both went back to work that following Monday, which again, seemed a little strange after the weekend. There were moments that the entire situation seemed unreal.
One example was Monday morning when J.J. walked into the kitchen, dressed for work. I was munching on toast and drinking tea when he came in and set about packing his lunch.
"Morning," he greeted, his voice pitched low and still a little rough with sleep.
"Morning."
Once his lunch was packed, he set the bag next to his briefcase in one of the chairs and made coffee with the single-cup maker.
"Want some eggs?" he asked.
I had to laugh. He'd asked me that every morning since Saturday and the answer was the same today as it was the first two.
"No, thanks."
"You need protein," he replied.
"I'll get it when I have lunch and dinner," I shot back. "You made sure of that by making them for me."
It was his turn to laugh. "Fair enough. Do you have something against scrambled eggs?" he asked. "I could have sworn you used to eat them all the time as a kid."
I shook my head. "I don't have anything against them, usually, and I did eat them all the time as a kid. My stomach is still a little queasy in the mornings so tea and toast are about all I can handle. I promise I'll let you make me eggs at some point. Just not for breakfast."
J.J. grinned as he got a pan out of the cabinet. Over the weekend, he'd managed to familiarize himself with most of the kitchen. Granted, it was a tiny kitchen with only a few cabinets and the pantry, but he took the time to figure out where everything was.
It was something I noticed about adult J.J. that hadn't changed much from teenage J.J.
When he was interested in something, he learned what he could about it.
Which was also why he started bringing me dinner or taking me out for dinner every night that I worked at Crave after Monday. Once he realized that I was eating a sandwich and fruit for lunch and the meals he'd prepped for dinner, he started showing up at the shop with food.
I really wanted to be irritated at him but he made it impossible. Rather than bossing me around or trying to wheedle me into doing what he wanted, he did something nice.
It was a tactic that worked because my mother had hammered the concept of manners into me from a young age.
Friday night was a good example. He showed up with homemade tomato soup, grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, and the news that I was officially on his insurance.
"I brought my dinner, you know," I said as we sat in Cam's office. She'd told me to go back there and put my feet up while I ate.
I wasn't sure if she'd gotten it from J.J. or he'd gotten it from her.
"I know," he said, pulling out two containers of soup and foil-wrapped sandwiches. "I thought it would be nice to have dinner together."