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bring up the pregnancy yet. It's too early in the AM for that. I smile sadly and pull away reluctantly. I feel like I'm letting Noah down by being pregnant again, like somehow I'm taking something away from him. I think of my sisters and how close together we are in age. Like mother like daughter. My sad smile becomes a scowl, and I'm glad Ty's behind me and can't see it. My sisters are blessings and curses both. I can't imagine not having them, yet I can also imagine that if I had gotten more attention, had loving parents, how easy my life could've been. Ugh. I just want to pull out my fucking hair.
    “Hey there, Mr. Ross,” I say, reaching into the crib and pulling out the little warm body, tucking him under my chin and breathing in deep.
    “McCabe,” says Ty from the doorway. He doesn't mention the cigarette I smoked, but I know he knows. I can't hide anything from the man.
    “Ross-McCabe,” I correct. I turn to look at him, and we both smile. Mine turns into a sigh which turns into a nagging worry and that horrible feeling of not being good enough. Not enough. I am not enough for these two wonderful boys, so how can I add someone else into this mix? How can I, in good conscious, bring someone else into this world when I'm not even sure how to navigate it anymore? I hold Noah close and rub his back in small circles.
    “So, I was talking to Beth last night,” Ty begins, and I have to raise my eyebrows and give him a look.
    “You two best friends now or something?” I ask and he smiles.
    “She's the mother-in-law I always wanted,” he says, no hint of a joke in his voice. I step up to him and tug on his nose ring. “I refuse to acknowledge the bitch that gave birth to you.”
    “Good,” I tell him, leaning in and letting him hold us both in his strong arms. “I have to agree with that. Maybe one day, if she comes to me and apologizes, I'll forgive her. For now, my best bet is to pretend she doesn't exist.” Ty's fingers squeeze my arm gently and his breath exhales in a rush. I know that he's thinking about his mom now, that he thinks about her almost everyday that we're here. I believe that living in this house is helping to come with things, like he's communicating with her by just being here. The house was a wreck, but I know there are little things, picture albums and dress shirts and crocheted pillows, that speak to him in a soft voice, tell him she wasn't all bad. I think he likes that. And I know there are horrible memories here, despicable ones, but he's dealing with that, too, paving over them with new ones – me, Noah, the farmer's market, the stupid tabby cat. “So what did you talk with Beth about?”
    “Going down there,” he says, and before I can protest that he doesn't have the money, that we don't have the money, he adds, “Permanently. Or at least for a little while, until we figure out what we want to do next.”
    “What?” I ask, stepping back, looking up into his face. “I thought you wanted to stay here? Keep this house? Make a life?”
    “I have a life wherever I am, as long as I'm with you Never Fontaine Regali-Ross-McCabe. We'll sell the house, if we can. It's free and clear, so whatever we get would help. And I know you've been missing your sisters like crazy. I'm such a fuckwad for making you stay here. I wanted to be in the house out of some screwed up quest for redemption or some shit. Like, if I could make it work here, I could make it work anywhere, and I'd be free of all the guilt for … everything. I kinda made this house an analogy for my soul, you know? Fix it up on the outside and on the inside, everything will fall into place.” Ty touches the side of my face with his knuckles, flutters the orange and black butterfly on the back of his hand against my skin. He smiles and his brown eyes twinkle, making me feel weak in the fucking knees. He might be a dad now, and a married man, but he still has that power to drop women to their knees with a single glance. I do my