“I was worried about you not being ready.”I offered a slight shrug.“I’m not sure anybody is ever really ready,” I admitted. “I’ve spent ... lot of time thinking about things ... about what this would mean for us.”“And?” Liz pressed.“And nothing,” I confessed. “I ran the scenarios around in my head a dozen times and came up with nothing concrete. I know I was disappointed just now. But it’s something we should consider and discuss. I ... I think we need to decide how we’re going to raise a child. Mom put sandwiches on the plates and we sat down to eat. My baton, which I had put on while putting my laundry away, clunked against the side of my chair. Despite the noise Mom didn't look at me and we ate in silence. She sat in Dad's spot and read her Kindle, which was placed near the wall so she was facing slightly away from me, while I munched on my sandwiches and looked her over in barely concealed anticipation. Mom was tapping the air with her now bare foot under the table. The shoes, both. More

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