dude has a degree in medicine as well as philosophy. Oh, no, Jules, I just realized—you and I have never even talked about whether you wanted kids. We’ve had absolutely no time! Too late now, I suppose, to have that conversation, and it does seem kind of soon, but—you do want children, don’t you?”
There, he knew what to do. He nodded.
“Should we find out if it’s a boy or a girl? I don’t think I want to, is that okay? I can’t wait, I just want to have it right fucking now—no no, I don’t mean that, I want to be pregnant, and also we’re going to need at least nine months to learn to control our potty mouths, the poor kid can’t be around parents who curse like sailors—oh, hey, if it’s a boy we can name him after you. Jules Junior, hah! Or that name you said you’ve always liked, Sam? You said it means lucky. Well, if this is not a lucky baby, I don’t know what is. Sam Cruz. I love it. And if it’s a girl, we can call her Juliet. Oh, yes! Juliet Cruz, it’s a stage name already—a star in the making. The sweetest flower in all the field. Or we can name her anything you want. You gave me my Viennese dessert bar at our wedding and took me to Hawaii. In return you get to name all our kids. I really want to call my mom, though. Do you think I have time? They have to redo my makeup anyway. I know I should’ve told you tonight, but I couldn’t wait. You know what they say—good news must be shared at once. And you sure looked like you could use some good news. I’ll Facetime my mom later. I have to see her expression when I tell her. I hope it’s as priceless as yours. She’s going to want to take the next plane out, oh, my love—I simply can’t believe it. We are going to have a baby. Everything in our life is changed.”
Behind her, they were wheeling the red bus and black cab into position, wiping the glass on the windows for a streak-free reflection, hosing down the sidewalks and the flowers . . . because it was always raining in London. Julian hoped his face didn’t look like he felt, like he was about to break down. He wanted to look like a man who was simply outranked by the good news flanking him. The tension had fled his body. While he had been doing his own thing, panicking, fretting, dreading the worst, the universe was doing its own thing, loading the dice, dealing the cards, breaking the crystal quartz. Relief flooded him, and joy. He knew everything was going to be okay, at least for a while. He felt it in his gut.
Mirabelle was gazing at him expectantly. Something demanded to be said. What’s my line? Please give me my line.
Ad lib, Julian.
He closed his eyes and spoke the only words to say when there was nothing left to say.
“Oh my God, thank you,” said Julian.
There was familiar noise, and Ashton and Zakiyyah strode across the fake street, both of them grinning from ear to ear, as if they had already known. Grabbing two chairs, they fit around the small metal table, Ashton next to Julian.
“We were dying!” Zakiyyah said. “Jules, Ash and I stood over in the corner the whole time, watching her tell you!”
“Z was right, it was better than any horror movie has a right to be,” Ashton said. “Now we know what kinds of shenanigans really go on in this so-called dungeon.”
Zakiyyah waved her phone through the air. “I taped the whole thing,” she said. “It’s going viral, baby, I’m posting it on Instagram in five minutes.”
“Look at my poor buddy, it’s like a bomb has gone off.” Ashton threw his arm around Julian. “Has he managed even a single word, Mia? What’s the matter, Jules? How do you feel, happy or scared shitless?” Ashton laughed. “Hard to tell, right? Both emotions feel about the same.”
“Ashton!” said Zakiyyah. “Anyone can see—he’s so thrilled, he’s been rendered speechless.”
“Oh, Z, quick, you have to get pregnant, too,” Mia said, “so we can have our babies together.”
“Well, if anyone can be quick about it,” Zakiyyah said, winking at Ashton.
“Thanks a lot, Jules,” Ashton said.
“Places, everyone!” the AD yelled, “it’s almost time—all non-essential personnel off the set! Wait,” he said to the director, pointing at the four