“I’m glad you aren’t sad about the baby because I’m not either. But I want to be clear that you have options. All the options in the world. And I’ll be here with you, no matter what. I want to come home to the sound of you and Luke laughing. I want to listen to you play the guitar while I cook dinner. I want to leave you Post-it notes for a long time. I don’t want you to feel stuck with me.” More tears slide down my cheeks, and he catches every single one. Always sturdy and reliable. “I do really love your Post-it notes,” I whisper. “Then I’ll keep writing them.” “But I still think I’m a
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