Ready or Not

by Cara Bastone

I have the warm hands of someone who loves me, and ending it is inconceivable. I’d very much like me and my kicking bump to be treasured. Even if just by a friend, and even if just for a moment.

He’s so relaxed and loose and I’m momentarily seized with longing to see him tight and frantic.

We, in fact, did not just kiss. But the reason he pulled away was in order to say hello to my baby bump, so…I’m confused. But not hurt? Disappointed but…elated? He’s up on an elbow, smiling at my baby bump and then turning back to me. He blinks down at me, a slow expression, filled with a depth that only decades of knowing someone can give you. This here is a man who knows me. And I feel known.

This isn’t all about me. It isn’t all about Ethan, or Willa, or Shep, or even the baby. It’s a web and—God, what a perfect system because—each of us is somebody’s favorite.

Wanting means I get to look ecstatically forward to the future. Wanting means I get to fling open the doors to my life and say come in.

I miss the girl who bounced through life and had a grand old time never quite getting what she wanted and not knowing why. But I don’t think I’ll miss her for long.

I’m just a little raw. And who wouldn’t be? I’ve been blinked into existence, grown and protected by those who love me,