Jerome came home from work to find Brenna cleaning the stove. "Aren't you supposed to be resting?" he asked.
"It's been two weeks since I was in the hospital," Brenna said. "I'm going stir crazy here. My doctor's appointment is tomorrow; I know they'll tell me I don't have to rest as much. I'm feeling fine."
"I'm glad to hear that, but are you sure you should be doing so much?"
"I'm not doing much, Jerome. I'm standing here trying to get this gunk off your burner. It isn't very strenuous." She sounded annoyed. "What am I supposed to do, sit on the couch all day and watch TV and get fat?"
"I didn't mean to tick you off, honey. I'm just concerned about you and the baby."
"I know you are." Brenna sighed. "I'm sorry, honey. I don't mean to snap. I'm just feeling crabby and tired."
"That's understandable. I know you haven't been sleeping well."
"I guess women don't when they're pregnant. But I'm almost four months along now; I hoped I'd be sleeping better by now. I nap all day long, though, and I still feel exhausted."
"Well, ask your doctor about it tomorrow if it worries you, but I'd say that's normal. And you can nap all day if you want to. I don't expect you to do the housework."
"I know. But I feel like I should do something. After all, this is my house now too, right?" She looked around. "Still feels strange to say that. I haven't gotten used to living here yet. The move was too sudden."
"I know. When you're feeling up to it, we can go back to your old apartment and you can make sure Emery and I didn't leave anything behind. The landlord said you were set through the end of the month, so we still have a week or so."
"Good." Brenna set down the piece of steel wool she'd been using and leaned against the stove. "Okay, I'm done. How did this stuff get on your burner anyway?"
"I got into an argument with a pot of spaghetti sauce, and the spaghetti sauce won. Don't worry about it, honey." Jerome put his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. "Thank you for trying."
"I just wish I could have gotten it done, but I guess I'll just have to deal." She leaned against him. "I'm so tired, Jerome. I think I'm going to go lie down for a while, unless you want me to cook supper."
"No, I don't want you to cook supper. I want you to go rest, and I'll let you know when supper's ready. As long as I manage not to lose a fight with any food, I'll be fine."
Brenna laughed. Jerome was glad to hear the sound; between her tiredness and the concerns about her pregnancy, Brenna hadn't laughed often in the past couple of weeks. "I just wish you could come lie down with me," she said. "I hope the doctor tells me tomorrow that it's safe for us to make love again. I've missed feeling you inside me."
"I've missed it to, but it's worth missing to make sure you and our son are safe."
"Or daughter." Brenna yawned. "Okay, going to the bedroom." Her lips brushed against Jerome's. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Brenna went to the bedroom. Jerome started searching through the fridge for something healthy to make for supper. After months of living alone after his wife had left him for someone else, he was still getting the hang of cooking for two. He'd never had to do it before; except for a few times when Lena had been sick over the three decades of their marriage, she'd done all the cooking. She'd been the typical housewife, though she'd worked outside the home as well. There had been times since she'd left that Jerome had wondered how she'd juggled a job, a house, and their three now-grown children; when he'd first been alone, Jerome had had trouble just remembering to eat after a day at work.
He finally found some chicken breasts at the back of the fridge, and set them in the oven to bake. Just as he closed the oven door, the phone rang. He hurried into the living room to answer it. "Hello?"
"Dad, when's the wedding going to be?"
Jerome smiled at the sound of his younger daughter's voice. "Hello, Quinn. How are you?"
"I'm good. How are you? How are Brenna and the baby?"
"We're all fine, thanks. Brenna's taking a nap." Jerome sat down. "Did you have a reason to call?" Generally his twenty-year-old daughter only called when she needed money.
"To ask when you and Brenna are getting married. I want to help plan the wedding, if you'll let me. Gillian doesn't think you guys should be getting married, but she's just an idiot."
"Don't call your sister an idiot, please," Jerome said automatically.
"Sorry. But she's twenty-eight and she's acting like a little kid. I hung up on her last night because she kept putting Brenna down. I like Brenna; she's nice. And I think you deserve to be happy. I know you were happy with Mom, but then she left, and I think she was wrong to do that. Gillian still thinks you and Mom should get back together."
"I know she does. Gillian's made her opinion abundantly clear. She has to understand that it isn't going to happen." Lena had hurt Jerome far too badly for him to ever take her back, but he stopped himself from saying so to Quinn. His children might be adults now, but he still didn't think it was right to give them too many details about his marriage and divorce.
"Well, Emery and I understand that, and we agree with you," Quinn said. "Mom shouldn't have done what she did. But I'm sure you don't want to talk about that."
"Not really," Jerome agreed.
"Okay, so back to my question. When's the wedding, and can I help plan it?"
"We haven't decided yet when it will be, and I don't think there will be anything to plan. We'll probably just go to a justice of the peace and have a short ceremony. You and your brother can be there, of course, and your sister if she wants, but I don't think we need anything more than that. After all, it's a second marriage, and I hear weddings are expensive."
"You don't know when you're getting married? I hope you're planning to do it before Brenna has the baby!"
"Yes, child, we'll be married before the baby arrives."
"You know, Dad, after all the conversations you and Mom had with us about safe sex and abstinence and all that, it's rather amusing that you accidentally got Brenna pregnant."
"I'm glad you're entertained by it. Just count on being asked to babysit your new little brother or sister on occasion."
"I'd love to. Babies are so cute!"
"Don't get any ideas."
"Don't worry, Dad. I'm not thinking about having kids till I'm at least thirty. I want a life first. No offense to you and Mom, but you started having kids pretty much as soon as you were married. I don't want to do that."
"No offense taken. I think that's a wise choice for you."
"So are you going to let me help you plan a wedding?"