Everett tucked the ultrasound printout back into the recipe box himself, careful with the worn folds. He set it on the shelf beside the hospital record. Two small pieces of paper that had almost cost them everything. Now they just sat there quietly, side by side. Proof of how close it came, and how far they'd come since.
Naomi found him standing there a few minutes later, still looking at the shelf. "You okay?" she asked. "Better than okay," Everett said. "Just remembering." "Good memories or bad ones?" she asked. "Both," he said. "I don't think I want to forget either kind anymore."
May you like
Naomi leaned against the doorframe, watching him for a moment longer. Then she reached for his hand. They walked back toward the sound of their sons laughing in the next room. It was, Everett thought, the best sound in the entire house. Better than any deal he'd ever closed, any contract he'd ever signed. Just two boys, laughing, safe, home.
