Page 182 - In Five Years

Our wine comes then. We busy ourselves with witnessing and then
participating: the uncorking and tasting and pouring and toasting. David
congratulates me on Yahtzee.
“Are you sure?” he says, picking the thread back up. “Because sometimes I

don’t . . .” He shakes his head. “Sometimes I’m not so sure.”
“Forget about my suggestion,” I say. “It was dumb. I shouldn’t have brought

it up. Everything is already set.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
We order, but we barely touch our food. We both know the truth of what sits

now between us. And I should be scared, I should be terrified, but the thing I
keep thinking, the thing that makes me answer affirmative, is that he didn’t ask

the other question, the one I cannot conceive.
What happens if she doesn’t make it?