Jerrod sat for a few moments, staring blankly at the empty food containers on the table. That damn cartoon woman was still staring back at him, "Made With MaMa's Special Touch." Thousands of thoughts seemed to be dancing around in his head. There was a part of him that found it hard to reconcile the fact that they hadn't had more of a debate with questions like, "Are we really going through with this?" or "Are you sure you're OK with this?" Much more, however, he felt so grateful that those questions didn't need to be asked.

They'd both already answered them that afternoon. It was settled. They didn't need...