You’re standing in the kitchen of your Brooklyn apartment, the morning sunlight streaming through the window and catching the edge of Grant’s shield where it leans against the wall. The smell of coffee fills the air, but it’s not enough to distract you from the conversation you’ve been having—or rather, the conversation Grant keeps trying to have. He’s leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, that earnest look in his blue eyes that always makes it hard to say no to him. But this time, you have to. You’ve told him before. You’ll tell him again.

“I just don’t see why we need to wait,” Grant says, his voice soft but persistent. He’s been like this for weeks now, ever since the engagement. Baby fever, you’ve started calling it in your head. It’s not that you don’t want kids—you do, someday—but the idea of rushing into it makes your stomach twist. You’ve barely had time to adjust to the idea of being his fiancée, let alone the idea of being a mother.

“Grant,” you say, setting your mug down on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “We’ve talked about this. I want to enjoy being married for a while before we even think about kids. Is that so crazy?”

He frowns, his brow furrowing in that way it does when he’s trying to understand something that doesn’t make sense to him. “It’s not crazy,” he says slowly. “I just… I guess I don’t see what waiting will change. We’re already a team, you and me. A baby would just make it better.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. It’s not that you don’t get where he’s coming from. Grant’s always been about family, about building something lasting. He’s told you stories about his parents, about the life he imagined for himself before the helix catalyst, before the war, before everything. And now that he’s finally found some semblance of peace, he wants to fill it with the things he’s always dreamed of—a home, a family, a future. But you’re not ready to dive headfirst into that future just yet.