'Fuck!'
Travis manages to dodge the small plastic object that comes hurtling out of the open bathroom door towards him in their bedroom, sighing when he sees it land near his feet, knowing exactly what it was.
'Tay?', he says softly, picking it up, turning the test over to read the word he knew he would find there: Negative.
'Tay? Please talk to me, baby', he calls through the now-closed bathroom door to his wife, jiggling the door handle - not locked, but the door wasn't budging, signalling she was sitting against the other side.
'We will try again next month, sweetie. We've only been trying since September', he says, the words he called out last month through the door repeating themselves. 'Come on, Tay, I want you to have a good birthday'.
They are in New York for the weekend, Taylor's birthday conveniently falling on a Saturday when he had a Thursday night game, giving them the weekend to celebrate- and for Taylor to announce the surprise double drop of her last two re-records on her birthday. They'd flown out yesterday, Taylor's schedule busy tonight with an interview on Jimmy Fallon, before her birthday party on Sunday which Travis had organised with the help of her friends. They were flying back to KC on Sunday evening, so were determined to make the most of their time in the city.
He hears her shuffle, the door handle turning, and he feels her collapse into him, his arms automatically wrapping her in a hug. 'Baby, we'll try again. Next month, yeah?'
'You don't understand'.
He can hardly make it out, the sentence muffled against his sweatshirt, and he pulls her away from his chest to look at her, hands on her arms. 'What do you mean, sweetie?'
'You just don't understand, Trav', she repeats, pulling away from him towards the bed, picking up her phone, trying to look busy.
'Tay, I'm not giving up on this conversation when you're this upset. Tell me what you mean', he says, more sternly, moving towards her and pulling her phone out of her hand. He glances down quickly, seeing her period tracker app open, clearly looking - again - at her cycle. 'Tay, I'm worried about you'.
'I haven't been on birth control since the baby, Travis', she whispers, not daring to look up at him, chewing her lip.
'Since April?'
'March. I missed it in March, hence the baby, and then I never went back on it. I never figured out how to tell you. And I guess I wanted a baby anyway, so I wanted it to happen. On some level'.
'Oh Tay', he mutters, pulling her closer, her reaction to the negative test making more sense to him now. 'Why didn't you tell me? You can tell me anything, baby'.
'I don't know, Trav. I don't know', she softly sobs against his chest as he squeezes her tighter, breathing in her scent. 'But it's been seven months, Trav. I would have expected it to happen by now'.
'I know, baby', he sighs softly, tilting her head to look up at him, and kissing her softly. 'I believe it will, we have to believe it will, sweetie'.
'Yeah, I know. It's just hard. The waiting, the negatives. I want it so bad, Trav. I want Matilda to be a big sister', she sniffles, looking back at him.
'And she will be, baby. I have faith. We'll do what we have to, baby. I love you, Tay, okay? I love you so much. You have a big day, today, sweetie - are you sure you're alright?'
'I'll be okay', she begins, but then stops as she hears the bedroom door open, Matilda appearing in the doorway. 'Hi, baby girl', Taylor says softly, quickly wiping her eyes, before walking over to her daughter and propping her up on her hip. 'Did you sleep well, honeybun?'
