Chapter Eighteen #2
The bathroom was the only room in the house where Rose had not budged an inch.
The walls were a deep, dark blue with white trim, the hardware on the double vanity sink a chalky black.
The clawfoot soaking tub sat underneath a wide bay window with a view of the meadow behind their house, the sunflowers swaying in the wind as late as September.
In adulthood, with the joyful chaos of their wedding behind them, Rose found her life had grown rather small: work, home, bed, paired with occasional travel and drinks on the weekends with friends.
The bathtub was her refuge. There was nothing she loved more in the fading days of summer than pouring a glass of bright pink wine, drawing a bath, and melting into a good book, pretending for an hour or so she was someone else, somewhere else.
Though that wasn’t why she’d told Landon she’d needed the bathtub.
Landon didn’t find their lives small in the slightest. He had everything he’d ever wanted—he told her as much at the end of each day, no matter how mundane, and especially on the days when they melted into each other.
He had no need for a bathtub. Not like Rose did.
Landon turned the faucet on the tub and let the water run through his fingers until it reached the perfect temperature before stopping the drain.
He had a way of anticipating her needs that still thrilled her, sometimes.
“I’ve only ever seen this in the movies, to be honest,” Landon said, sheepishly.
“First pregnancy scare, huh? That makes two of us.” Rose sat on the toilet seat cover and fiddled with the box, wrapped so tightly in plastic she eventually gave up and used her teeth as scissors.
“How long does it take?” His voice betrayed emotion again—that trace of excitement he couldn’t quite hide.
Rose squinted at the tiny letters on the side.
“Five minutes.” She pulled off the plastic applicator.
“Turn around,” she instructed. After more than a decade together, they had seen it all, but there was something about this moment that felt off-limits.
She wasn’t sure she had ever felt more vulnerable.
Or maybe the word she was looking for was ridiculous.
It felt vulnerable and ridiculous, peeing on a stick.
“What did Poppy say, when you called her?”
“I didn’t tell you that, did I?”
“You didn’t need to.”
Rose placed the protective plastic covering back over the pee-soaked stick and set it beside her on the vanity. “Same thing you did, really, with more swearing and less patience.”
“Sounds about right.”
“She told me to buy a really good bottle of red wine. She said she’d fly out if I needed her.”
Landon cocked his head. “Do you want me to grab a bottle from the basement?”
“No,” Rose said. “It’ll just make me more anxious.”
“Can I turn around?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Landon said, eyes flicking to the life-changing hunk of plastic. “Five minutes.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and set a timer. “Let’s get you in this bath.”
Rose crossed the long bathroom to him and let him lift her shirt over her head. She pulled off her pants and he trailed light kisses down her arms, unclipping her bra from behind and pressing her to him. “That’s how we got into this mess,” she said, but Landon only smiled.
“In,” he said. Rose let him help her down into the deep soaking tub.
It was oily and sudsy and smelled like mint and eucalyptus.
She dunked her head under the warm water and held her breath a moment longer than was comfortable.
When she broke the surface, she rubbed her eyes and kept them shut.
Then, Landon’s hands were in her hair, massaging lavender shampoo into her scalp, scratching the sides of her head so hard she felt the tingle all the way in her toes.
“That feels good.” She held the side of the tub with both hands and leaned back, into him.
“Good,” he said. “Just focus on my hands.”
Four minutes now. As wonderful as he had the capacity to make her feel, he could not change that. “What if it’s positive,” Rose said.
“We’ll do whatever you want, Rose.”
“What do you want?”
She felt his hands go slack before resuming their motion. “It doesn’t really matter what I want.”
Rose was just being masochistic now. “I want to know.”
He sighed. “I have the best life imaginable. I’m so lucky I have to remind myself to tone it down in public. Really, my friends are so sick of me. This is all I need—you are all I ever need.”
“But what do you want?”
Three minutes. The question bordered on cruel, Rose knew that. So why couldn’t she stop?
Landon placed a wet hand on her forehead and leaned in, his voice a near whisper. “If you wanted to have a baby, I—” His voice wavered. “I would be the luckiest man in the universe. To have a baby with you.”
“Have you always wanted that?”
“I’ve always wanted you.”
“What if you weren’t with me?”
Landon laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I reject the premise of the question.”
Two minutes. Rose sighed and dropped her body lower so her chin hovered just above the water. “I don’t know what I want,” she said, finally.
“Well that’s…” Landon fumbled for the word. “New.”
“All day,” Rose said. “I’ve been going over and over it in my head all day. I hate my job—I fucking hate my job, you know that. But that’s not why this scares me so much. Having a kid before I have everything figured out, I mean, who does have everything figured out?”
“No one,” he said.
“Right.”
“You don’t need a reason.”
For a moment, Rose was back in her childhood bed, lying next to this man she loved so much, in awe of the way he shone light on the darkest parts of her. “It’s the same reason,” she said. “It’s always been the same reason. It just feels… different now.”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“I think it’s the estrangement, maybe?” Rose said.
“I don’t think about my mom as much. Sometimes it’s like she’s not even there.
Like she never existed. It’s sad, but it’s good.
Great, even. And today, for a second, I thought…
” She paused, considering whether to give the words voice. “I thought maybe…”
One minute. “You would be an amazing mother,” Landon said, making the decision for her, “if you want to be.”
Rose suddenly felt very small. “It scares me.”
“Me too.”
There was more to say—so much more—but neither of them would find the words until they knew for sure.
They settled into a tense silence, the only sounds the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the tub.
When the timer went off with birdsong and crickets, Rose lurched forward.
“My hands are shaking,” she said. “Oh my God, I can’t stop shaking. ”
“Do you want me to look?”
Rose gripped the sides of the tub. “Yeah. Yes. Oh God.”
“Hey,” Landon said, finding her hands and giving them a tight squeeze. “We’ve got this, okay? No matter what.”
“Yeah,” she said, barely able to breathe.
“I’m walking toward the vanity,” he narrated.
She gripped the sides tighter. “Almost there. I’m picking up the stick.
” Rose held her breath and fought the urge to dunk her head back underwater.
“I’m trying to read this thing,” Landon said, sounding a little confused when he should have confidently been saying “pregnant” or “not pregnant.” “One line,” he said.
“It’s one line; what does that mean?” Rose swiveled her head while he fiddled with the cardboard box.
“Not pregnant,” Rose said. “I’m not pregnant.” She’d expected it to come out like a victory cry, but the words withered on the vine. She was not pregnant. She did not want to be pregnant. So where had that pit in her stomach come from, and why wouldn’t it sink?
“Not pregnant,” Landon repeated. “I told you it would all be okay.” The words felt hollow, his eyes dull. “Hey, why don’t I go get you that wine from the basement now?” he said. “Let’s celebrate. I’ll order in some sushi, too. We’ll have a ‘you’re not pregnant’ celebration.”
“Sure,” Rose said, her heart still beating fast as a butterfly’s wing. “Great idea.”
The room felt too empty the moment he left. She picked up her phone and called the one person who could fill the void.
“You took the test,” Poppy said, clearly out of breath.
“Jesus, are you okay?”
“I’m on a StairMaster,” she breathed. “Stop avoiding the question.”
“It’s negative.”
“Oh, thank God!” she squealed, granting the universe the reaction Rose hadn’t been able to muster. “You better make an appointment with your OB first thing tomorrow morning and lock that down.”
“Yeah,” Rose said noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Wait, are you okay?” Poppy asked. “Why aren’t you screaming?”