Chapter 163

Abigail woke with a sharp gasp, her heart racing like she’d been running.

For a second she was still trapped in the dream—bright store lights, empty shelves, her hands grabbing frantically where diapers should’ve been. Bottles gone. Wipes gone. A crying baby somewhere she couldn’t reach.

She sat up in bed, chest tight, breath shallow.

No.
No, it was just a dream.

But the feeling stuck.

Careful not to wake Emma, Abigail slid out of bed and padded down the hall. The apartment was quiet, wrapped in that early Saturday stillness where everything felt suspended. She pushed open the nursery door and stepped inside.

The room was peaceful. Too peaceful.

The crib sat waiting. The shelves were empty but clean. The rocking chair by the window caught the soft morning light. Everything looked right—and somehow that made it worse.

Abigail started pacing.

“We’re really having a baby,” she whispered.

Back and forth.

“What if we run out of diapers?” she said, rubbing her hands together. “What if it’s three in the morning and everything’s closed? What if we buy the wrong size and don’t realize until it’s too late?”

She turned, pacing the other direction now.

“What if we don’t have enough wipes? What if the baby has sensitive skin? What if the bottles don’t work and they won’t eat and—”

Her breath hitched.

“What if I forget something important? What if I’m not ready? What if—”

She stopped abruptly, pressing her palms to her thighs.

“No,” she said out loud, firmer. “Abigail. Calm down.”

She inhaled slowly. Exhaled.

“You’re spiraling,” she told herself. “You’re prepared. You have time. You’re not doing this alone.”

The words helped—but only a little.

She turned toward the doorway, deciding she needed space, air, something grounding. As she stepped into the hallway, her thoughts started tumbling again, faster now that she was moving.

“What if we run out of formula?” she muttered. “What if there’s a shortage? What if the baby won’t sleep and we don’t know why? What if—”

Behind her, soft footsteps followed.

“O, Emmababe,” Abigail suddenly said, voice pitching higher as the thoughts spilled out. “What if we run out of something? Like—what if the baby’s crying and we don’t know what they need? What if it’s gas or hunger or something worse and I can’t tell the difference? What if—”

She turned and nearly walked straight into Emma.

Emma stood there in the hallway, hoodie pulled over her hands, eyes still sleepy but locked on Abigail with concern. 

“Hey,” Emma said gently. “Hey, come here.”

Abigail’s voice cracked. “What if I mess this up?”

Emma didn’t answer right away. She just stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Abigail, holding her tight, grounding her with steady pressure.

“You’re doing it again,” Emma murmured softly. “The what-if spiral.”

Abigail let out a shaky laugh against her shoulder. “I know. I can hear it happening and I still can’t stop.”

Emma pulled back just enough to look at her. “Listen to me,” she said calmly. “We won’t run out of everything at once. And if we run out of something?” She shrugged lightly. “We’ll get more. Or we’ll call someone. Or we’ll figure it out.”

Abigail swallowed. “What if it’s the middle of the night?”

“Then we’ll be tired and annoyed and still figure it out,” Emma said with a small smile. “Together.”

She took Abigail’s hand and placed it over her stomach. “You already care this much. That’s not failure—that’s love.”

Abigail’s shoulders finally dropped, the tension easing just a little.

Emma leaned in and kissed her forehead. “You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”

Abigail nodded, breathing steadier now. “Okay.”

Emma squeezed her hand. “Okay.”

They stayed there for another quiet moment, Emma’s arms still wrapped around Abigail like an anchor.

Eventually, Emma tilted her head back just enough to look up at her. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s go sit down before your brain invents another emergency.”

Abigail let out a small, embarrassed huff of a laugh. “I hate that you’re right.”

“I know,” Emma said, smiling. She took Abigail’s hand and led her toward the living room, easing her down onto the couch before sitting beside her and tucking her legs up, curling in close.

Emma rested her head on Abigail’s shoulder. “You know what we’re going to do later?”

“What?” Abigail asked, her voice calmer now.

“We’re going to make a list,” Emma said matter-of-factly. “Diapers. Wipes. Bottles. Backup diapers. Backup wipes. Probably backup backups because I know how your brain works.”

Abigail laughed for real this time. “Okay, yeah. That… actually helps.”

“And we’ll put it somewhere obvious,” Emma continued. “So at three in the morning, half-asleep, you can look at it and go, ‘Oh. We’re fine.'”

Abigail nodded, pressing a kiss into Emma’s hair. “I really needed you just now.”

Emma hummed. “That’s what I’m here for.”

She shifted slightly, taking Abigail’s hand again and lacing their fingers together. “Also,” she added, teasing now, “if we somehow run out of everything all at once, we still have each other. And at least one phone charger.”

Abigail chuckled. “Priorities.”

“Exactly.”

The tension finally drained out of Abigail’s body, replaced by a tired warmth. She leaned back into the couch, Emma still tucked against her side, the morning light creeping into the room.

“Hey,” Emma said quietly after a moment. “You’re going to be an amazing parent.”

Abigail swallowed, emotion rising unexpectedly. “You really think so?”

Emma lifted her head and kissed her gently. “I know so.”

Abigail closed her eyes, breathing that in, letting it settle where the fear had been.

Abigail stayed quiet for a bit, letting the words sink in. Emma’s thumb traced slow, absent circles over the back of her hand, grounding her in a way nothing else quite could.

After a while, Abigail exhaled and leaned her head back against the couch. “I think my brain forgot it’s allowed to rest on Saturdays.”

Emma smiled softly. “Your brain is already in full parent mode. It just skipped the ‘ease into it’ part.”

Abigail huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Apparently.”

Emma shifted, sitting up just enough to look at her properly. “How about this,” she said gently. “We make breakfast. Real breakfast. Then we make that list. And then—” she paused, eyes warming, “—we do absolutely nothing for a little while.”

Abigail glanced at her. “Nothing nothing?”

“Nothing nothing,” Emma confirmed. “No planning. No worrying. Just… us.”

Abigail felt something loosen in her chest. “I’d really like that.”

Emma leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Good. Because I’m starving.”

That earned a smile. Abigail stood, offering her hand. “Come on, then. Before you add ’emergency hunger situation’ to my mental list.”

Emma laughed, taking her hand and letting Abigail pull her up. “See? Already solving problems.”

They moved into the kitchen together, still hand in hand. The morning light spilled across the counters, the apartment quiet and warm. Abigail started the coffee while Emma leaned against the counter, watching her with that familiar, affectionate look.

As the coffee brewed, Emma stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Abigail’s waist again, this time calmer, steadier. Abigail rested her hands over Emma’s, feeling her breathing slow, feeling her own follow suit.

Whatever fears waited down the road, this moment felt solid.

And for now, that was enough.