Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
This baby wouldn’t be her first grandchild—my sister had two kids, and my brother and his girlfriend had one—but I knew she’d love him or her with everything she had.
I gathered her into my arms and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yeah, I’m gonna be a daddy.”
My friends swooped in with monster hugs and back slaps, saving me from any teary displays. I spotted Aaron and Jay in a tight embrace as Peter moved in, ruffling my hair.
“Congratulations. We’re happy for you both,” Peter said.
“So we’re gonna be uncles again.” Jack punched my biceps, then draped an arm around Curt’s shoulders.
Curt rubbed his hands together in a show of wicked glee. “I’m so ready for this. Your kid is going to be so spoiled. We’re buying the biggest giraffe stuffed animal now, but we’ll save the motorized mini Jeep as a first birthday gift. We call it. Don’t let anyone steal our thunder.”
I rolled my eyes but went along with it, drawing Aaron to my side. “You got it.”
“And to be clear, we’re calling him Curt if it’s a boy and…Curt if it’s a girl? Or…” Curt elbowed his husband in the ribs. “Jacqueline for ol’ Uncle Jack works too.”
“Those are very original ideas, and we’ll definitely give that some thought…not,” Aaron replied.
“I’m hearing maybe.”
We all laughed. The good-natured commentary continued in a flurry of off-the-wall suggestions and earnest congratulations until Murphy raced into the room with a shoe in his mouth, Holly and Henry hot in pursuit.
“How did Murphy get out of his crate?” someone asked.
“We had to let him out. He was so sad, but he jumped on the bed and tried to eat my shoe!” Holly explained, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder and pointing at her light-up sneakers. “They’re new, so I askidently gave him Uncle Aaron’s shoe instead.”
Aaron squeaked. “My Pradas!”
And just like that, the living room was pure mayhem with a manic pup, two wild-eyed kids, and a slew of amused adults who’d either joined the chase or sidled next to Lena to talk about babies.
My dad chuckled and handed me a beer. “Take it easy while you can, ’cause this is the tip of the iceberg, son. Just the tip of the iceberg. Cheers.”
nine
Aaron shuffled paint and fabric swatches on the kitchen island. “I think a soft green would be nice in the nursery.”
“Eucalyptus?”
He widened his eyes in surprise. “You remembered!”
“How could I ever forget? Eucalyptus paint, eucalyptus towels. Every weekend spent in that tiny little bathroom in our condo trying to get the color to your exact specifications.” I massaged his shoulders and leaned in to examine the array of pastel-hued samples. “I thought we were waiting a couple of months to do the nursery.”
“We are. I won’t tempt fate for us.”
I wanted to scoff and assure him that we had nothing to worry about, but we both knew it might not be true. “So what’s all this?”
He glanced at Murphy nibbling on a chew toy under the table in the breakfast nook, probably to make sure he hadn’t started eating the rug instead. Our adorable puppy had ratcheted up his mischievousness by a few levels over the past month. Nothing was sacred—shoes, socks, books, furniture. He’d gnawed the leg on the coffee table in the great room, punctured a basketball and two garden hoses, and stole tomatoes off the vine on the regular.
We now referred to him as Murph the Menace while grinning at him like lovesick idiots.
Yeah, we’d become those dog people. We coddled him, spoke to him in gooey adoring tones, and laughed at all his antics. Problem…now that he was getting bigger, some of his antics weren’t so cute anymore. Like jumping on the sofa or on our guests in greeting or not listening when we called his name. That last one happened all the damn time.
“Ah, Murphy is giving you the perfect glimpse into parenthood,” Mom had teased.
Maybe so, but we knew we had to get a handle on some of his bad habits. Our training session was scheduled for this morning at the park. Aaron had set the appointment, so I was surprised he wasn’t herding us out of the house instead of daydreaming about nursery color schemes.
He peeked at his watch, then gathered the bits of material into a neat pile with his head bent. “This is me being bad. I couldn’t help it. I absolutely refuse to buy any baby clothes—not even the adorable teddy bear onesie I saw at that new boutique on Larchmont. But I’m weak! And ever since your mother claimed that pinks and blue were the only real options unless we were going down a dreadful yellow path, I took it as a challenge. I can’t help it. We have months to go and this probably isn’t healthy, but I think about this unborn baby nonstop. Do you do that, or is it just me being neurotic and obsessive?”