Larissa Smith > Recent Status Updates

That it was my job to protect her. That I was the strong one, counterbalancing her weakness, her whimsy.
But I was wrong. I wasn't the strong one, she was. Because this is what it feels like—to take a risk, to step out of line, to make decisions not based on fact but on feeling. And it hurts. It feels like a tornado raging inside my soul. It feels like I may not survive it.

Love doesn’t require a future

And then he pushes into me. He moves slowly, deliberately, and I feel myself come apart before I even have a chance to begin.
He keeps moving on top of me, long after I've returned to my body, to my brain. We are like constellations passing each other, seeing each other's light but in the distance. It feels impossible how much space there can be in this intimacy, how much privacy.

"No," she says. "I was wrong. I wasn't pregnant."
"What are you talking about?"
"Dannie," she says. She looks straight at me. Her eyes are wet, wide. "They think I have ovarian cancer."

“There’s no baby.”

I was tipsy on my first drink since getting knocked up and in love with my husband and baby and this newfound family I won the lottery with.

I smile at Trista, whose eyes are also filled with tears as she watches my mom. Their bond was clear as day when my mom walked in the door today to meet her new grandchild, only to bypass the baby and check in on Trista first.

Seriously, the man could hit me with his truck in this vest, and I would jump up and tell him I’m sorry.

“These leggings are putting in a good shift for you, though,” he husks as he presses in behind me, kissing the area below my ear and groping my belly like it belongs to him.

We’re healing each other in completely unexpected ways.

His eyes and hands rarely left her, and while I could tell she was overwhelmed by the people and the nosy questions, she seemed happy too. There was a twinkle in her eye that I didn't see when I first met her.

Her eyes drink me in, giving me a look I haven't seen from her in a while. A look that says, I've seen you naked and want to see you naked again.

They'll both wait in the waiting room for who knows how long. This family gives and gives so easily

When I come outside, Wyatt is screaming at both of them. “What the fuck got into you two?” he hollers, giving big daddy energy that I definitely find attractive.

I turn to look at him, his hand moves up to touch my face. His thumb caresses my jawline in a tender way that sends shivers down my spine as he whispers, “Fuck yes, you’ll show them.”

“He loves me, even when he wants to punch me.” Calder gets up and moves around the table to grab my face, planting a big, sloppy kiss on my cheek. I shove him off me, and just as he moves to sit back down, I kick his chair out from under him, causing Calder to fall to the ground laughing. I fight back my own laughter as I watch Luke help him up.

“Being in love with someone makes change feel exciting, not sacrificial.”

Milkshake seemed like a fitting name for her after I saw how she brought all the boys to the yard on that jobsite last week.



Kill yourself

He goes to the fridge and yanks it open. I peer over the counter. I see rainbows of vegetables and fruits, paper-wrapped cheeses, fresh parsley and mint, containers of oily olives, some rolling lemons and limes, and a large wedge of Parmesan. We are supremely stocked.
"You got all of this?" I ask.
In prior years, 'd be lucky to show up to a stick of butter.

What Bella actually said was that he made butternut squash and sage risotto, but before she could have one little bite they'd had sex on the counter, right there in the kitchen.

I imagine David wearing a sweater and a gold band on his ring finger, opening wine in our kitchen on a cozy winter night. A sense of sustained comfort. The materials of a warm life.

My eyes blink rapidly when a tiny black-and-white kitten is thrust in my face. Calder’s voice is strained when he says, “I just caught it licking the nail gun, Wyatt.

As I aggressively rifle through my stuff, looking for something big and baggy to wear or a hole to crawl into, I feel Wyatt’s big arms wrap around me.
“Don’t.” My voice cracks as I shake out of his embrace.
“Hey,” he says in a concerned-dad voice. “What did I do?”

“I will be in the mood every day,” Wyatt deadpans.
“Jesus.”
“Multiple times a day if you like.”
“Okay—”
“A light breeze will get me in the mood with you.”