Marcus raised it on a Sunday morning.
We were in bed with Ava between us, which was not a habit we had intended to form but had arrived at gradually, the way most things in a family arrived. Ava was reading a board book with the focused attention of a literary critic. Marcus was reading the paper. I was doing nothing, which I had gotten better at.
"I want to ask you something," he said.
"Ask."
"Another child."
I looked at the ceiling for a moment. Then I looked at Ava, who had turned a page and was now regarding a drawing of a duck with the same expression she gave most new information.
"Tell me what you're thinking," I said.
"I'm thinking I want Ava to have a sibling," he said. "I'm also thinking that's your body and your decision first and my opinion second."
"Those are the right
