—Can it wait until morning?
Emily was shaking Mark’s foot.
—It’s 1 am. The Leonids will peak in an hour.
Two cups of coffee later, they headed for the woods. Mark kept a hand on his wife’s shoulder because she had banned flashlights so their eyes could better adjust to the dark. When they reached the meadow, they lay down side-by-side with her head on his chest.
Several meteors had streaked through the sky when Mark told her he was going to stop hunting.
—Because it bothers you that you’re turned on by it. I’ve heard you throwing up in the morning.
—That’s not the reason . . . I went to the clinic today. I’m pregnant.
Mark wrapped his arms around her. —I thought that might be it. I also don’t think you’d be so . . . aggressive if you didn’t need to think you were punishing me in some way.
Emily laughed. —You know me too well, but what difference will it make if you stop? I’ll still be imagining . . . and you’ll still eat meat.
—I’ll stop that too, but on two conditions. One: we name the kid after one of my parents. Two: you never stop fucking me the way you’ve been.
—Deal. Hey, did you see that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a meteor that bright.
—Yeah. I can’t wait to be a dad.