Page 99 - In Five Years

“Do you think he’ll be mad?” she asks me suddenly.
All at once, she’s in the driver’s seat of her silver Range Rover and we’re
listening to Anna Begins with the windows down. It’s summer, and it’s late. We
were supposed to be home hours ago, but no one is at Bella’s house. Her mother

is in New York for the opening of a restaurant and her father is traveling for
work.

We’re coming from Josh’s house—,or is it Trey’s? They both have pools.
We’re still wearing our bathing suits, but they’re dry now. The air is hot and
sticky, and I have this sense in me—born of youth and vodka and the Counting
Crows—that we are invincible. I look over at Bella, sitting back at the wheel,

mouth open, singing, and I think that I never want to be without her—and then,
that I never want to share her. That she belongs to me. That we belong to each

other.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But it doesn’t matter. This is our baby.”
She giggles. “I love him,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy. I know you think

I’m crazy. But I really, really do.” She puts a hand on her belly, right on top of
her nightgown.
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” I say. “I trust you.”

“That’s a first,” she says. Her hand is still resting there on her belly. I see it
growing, floating out in front of her like an inflatable balloon.
“Well,” I say. “Then it’s about time.”