Chapter 16 - The Question I Couldn’t PhotographFor three weeks, I photographed children everywhere.
Not intentionally.
At least I told myself that.
A little girl asleep on her father's shoulder at the airport.
Twin boys chasing pigeons.
A teenager rolling her eyes while her mother fixed her graduation cap.
A toddler crying because his ice cream had fallen onto the sidewalk.
Life.
Messy.
Loud.
Permanent.
Rebecca noticed during a portfolio review.
“You're photographing families.”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
She smiled.
“Photographers always know. We just occasionally charge other people to discover it first.”
I hated that she was right.
Luke never brought up children again.
That somehow made the question louder.
Then Emma announced she was pregnant.
She told me in my studio.
“I have something.”
She handed me a photograph.
An ultrasound.
I screamed.
Then cried.
Then screamed again.
Emma laughed until she cried too.
“You're going to be an aunt.”
I hugged her.
Joy arrived instantly.
Then something else.
Longing.
Small.
Terrifying.
That evening, I showed Luke.
His face lit up.
“Emma?”
I nodded.
He hugged me.
Then he stepped back.
He did not ask.
I loved him for that.
So I asked.
“Would you be disappointed if I never wanted children?”
Luke took several seconds.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
He continued.
“But disappointed isn't the same as angry. And wanting children doesn't entitle me to them.”
“What if you regret marrying me?”
“What if you regret having a child because you were afraid I'd leave?”
I looked away.
Luke touched my chin.
“I want a family with you. But you are already my family.”
My eyes filled.
“That's annoyingly good.”
“I rehearsed.”
“You did not.”
“Fine. I panicked beautifully.”
I laughed.
Months passed.
Emma's belly grew.
My work expanded.
Richard's legal problems unfolded somewhere beyond my daily life.
Nathan married Rachel in October.
I did not attend.
I sent a card.
Be happy. Both of you.
Nathan replied with two words.
Thank you.
That was enough.
Then, on a rainy November morning, I stood in our bathroom holding a pregnancy test.
Positive.
I stared at it.
Then took another.
Positive.
Then a third because apparently biology became more reliable through repetition.
Positive.
Luke knocked.
“You alive?”
“No.”
The door opened.
He saw my face.
Then the tests.
He froze.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally:
“Are those—”
“Yes.”
“Are you—”
“Apparently.”
His eyes filled immediately.
Then he did something that made me love him so fiercely I almost couldn't breathe.
He didn't touch me.
He asked:
“How do you feel?”
Not Are you happy?
Not This is amazing.
Not We're having a baby.
How do you feel?
I started crying.
“I don't know.”
Luke nodded.
“Okay.”
“I think I'm happy.”
“Okay.”
“And terrified.”
“Also okay.”
“And I might throw up.”
He moved instantly.
“That one I can solve.”
I laughed while crying.
He held my hair twenty seconds later as I leaned over the toilet.
Romance.
Apparently.
When I finished, I sat on the bathroom floor.
Luke sat beside me.
I placed the test between us.
“We're having a baby.”
He looked at me.
“Are we?”
I understood what he was asking.
Choice.
Always choice.
I took his hand.
May you like
“Yes.”
Only then did he cry.
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