Page 1 of Better Than Baby

one

“I sustainmyself with the love of family.”—Maya Angelou

The country lane stretched between evergreen trees that brushed through wispy clouds in the early spring sky. Other than deer lurking half-hidden under low branches and the occasional bird flitting overhead, it was eerily quiet. I couldn’t decide if it was peaceful and idyllic…or like something straight out of a horror film.

Of course, I immediately realized that I’d only noticed because I wasn’t used to driving in complete silence with Aaron. He always had a story to tell or an observation to share.

“Shira Stevens swears bell-bottoms and culottes are going to be the rage next fall, to which I say, no chance! I’ll give her one or the other…maybe. But not both at the same time. The seventies have had their day, honey.”

Or…

“Matty, did you know that the tiny little pocket in jeans was designed to hold pocket watches? How cute is that! My jeans are far too snug for that nonsense. I could just imagine someone asking me for the time and waiting another ten minutes whileI wiggled to free the poor thing from the denim-trap designer wear.”

Or even…

“I don’t think I like milk anymore. At all. It’s so…meh. I still have nightmares where five-year-old adorable me is sitting alone with a plateful of mushy peas and a glass of tepid milk, tears streaming down my cheeks because one of my parents insisted that the horrible combination had to be consumed before I could have a popsicle.” Insert all-body shiver. “We’re not doing that to our kids, Matty. Eat the peas or don’t. No trauma necessary. The world gives plenty without us adding to the mix. Am I right?”

In any of those scenarios, my input might be a grunt of agreement or an off-hand comment like, “If you ask me, mushy brussels sprouts are the stuff of childhood nightmares.”

Aaron would gasp, swivel in his seat, and launch into the story of the brussels sprouts we’d burned the hell out of last Thanksgiving. We’d laugh, and he’d blast his music and sing to whatever playlist he’d thought best fit our travel itinerary—Latin love songs, Gaga za za—don’t ask, I have no clue what that means—or something from his Taylor era. None of it was to my taste, but I happily put up with it ’cause Aaron loved it and I loved Aaron to utter and absolute distraction.

So, yeah…that was why today’s quiet felt a little haunting.

I understood, though. He was tapped out, cried out, angry, frustrated, and sad.

I just wasn’t sure a puppy would fill the void.

“I’m fine, Matty,” Aaron hummed as if reading my mind. “I really am. Am I disappointed? Yes, but I know you are too. It just wasn’t our turn, wasn’t our time.”

I linked our fingers across the console and brought them to my lips. “I know. Hang tight and be patient. We’ll get there.”

Aaron rubbed my forearm and sighed. “I’m trying. And just so you know…I don’t look at becoming pet parents as a placeholder for a having a child. We were always going to get a dog.”

“True.”

“And we don’t have to get one today. We’re just looking.”

I scoffed. “The thing about ‘looking’ at puppies is that you’re going to want to take one home every time…even if you’re not in the market for one. It’s hard to resist a cute little furball with stubby legs, big ears, oversized paws, and a potbelly.”

“And the sweet puppy dog eyes,” he cooed, finally twisting to face me. “Gah! I’m going to fold like a house of cards, Matty! If you find me on the floor under a pile of puppies, let ’em at me. Yes, yes, I know we’re just looking, but I’ve heard animals are so good for your mental health and well-being. They legit have puppy yoga at Om Salon. Can you even? It’s new and it gets booked fast, but maybe I could…”

I hummed along on cue, a soft smile on my face. This was more like it. I could listen to Aaron chatter away about anything from store-bought salad dressing to the new cast ofLove Islandall day long…or whatever might chase away the gloomy silence.

“This is it.” I turned left at the entrance to Yearwood Kennel and parked in front of a two-story shingle house.

“Oh, it even looks adorable! Don’t worry, my love. I promise not to fall in love with five puppies and sneak them out of the kennel in my fabulous satchel. But Imightbe able to fit two in here.” Aaron quirked his lips as he pulled the strap across his chest and patted the leather man-bag.

“Not so fast. If we’re doing this, we’re getting one. Only one,” I huffed. “And we can’t pick him or her up today anyway. We need to buy a crate and food and?—”

“I know, I know. This is just a visit. I’ll control myself. Let’s go!”

“Hang on.”

Aaron frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, but…” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip thoughtfully and continued in a rush, hoping my timing wasn’t terrible. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this and…let’s revisit the family planning agency and interview surrogates.”

He widened his eyes, then blinked as if warding off tears. “You’re sure?”