Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
PARKER
At thirty weeks pregnant, I'd reached the stage where simple tasks like putting on shoes had become a challenge.
My black oxfords that I wore for every broadcast seemed to mock me.
I shoved one foot in, willing the shoe to magically increase in size.
I huffed and puffed as I struggled but finally got one foot in the damned shoe.
I can do this, I insisted, even as I struggled to reach my feet.
Dawson crouched in front of me holding the second shoe. "We're going to be late if you spend twenty minutes doing this."
"I'm not that slow."
"Parker, you've been sitting here for ten minutes." He kissed my brow, something he did at least ten times a day.
I huffed but let him help. We were due at the station in thirty minutes for a live "family lifestyle" segment, a follow-up to my spectacularly unprofessional pregnancy announcement months ago. Isla had been planning it for weeks, calling it "heartwarming content that viewers are craving."
I called it "potential for public humiliation, round two."
"Remind me why we agreed to this?" I asked as Dawson drove us to the station.
"Because Isla asked very nicely. And because she stopped asking after you cried about it."
"I didn't cry."
"You teared up."
"That was the pregnancy hormones, not actual crying." I crossed my arms over my belly, which was getting harder to do. At thirty weeks, I was undeniably pregnant. The bump was pronounced enough that strangers felt entitled to comment on it in grocery stores.
"You're glowing," Dawson said, reaching over to squeeze my hand.
"I'm sweating. There's a difference."
But I squeezed back. Despite my complaints, I was actually excited about this. We'd been getting letters and gifts from viewers ever since the announcement, and Isla had promised this would be a "celebration of our growing family."
The studio had set up a cozy interview area with a couch and armchairs. Our interviewer, Michelle, was a lifestyle reporter known for her warm, grandmotherly energy. Behind her was a table piled with wrapped gifts.
"Oh no," I whispered to Dawson. "There are so many."
"We'll be fine." But I caught the concerned look he shot at the gift table.
"Parker! Dawson!" Michelle greeted us with a hug that was surprisingly strong for someone her size. "Look at you! Thirty weeks! You're absolutely glowing."
"See?" Dawson murmured.
"Still sweating," I muttered back.
We settled onto the couch. Well, I settled as much as someone with a belly the size of a basketball could. Dawson's hand immediately found its way to my knee.
"We're live in thirty seconds," the floor director called.
My heart started pounding. Live television while six and a half months pregnant and my brain was frazzled. What could possibly go wrong?
The interview started well enough. Michelle asked about how we met, how long we'd been together, and the now-famous on-air pregnancy announcement. I managed to answer coherently, and Dawson was his usual gruff-but-charming self.
Then we got to the gifts.
"Viewers have been so generous," Michelle said, gesturing to the table. "Let's open some, shall we?"
The first gift was sweet. It was a handmade baby blanket in soft yellow. I thanked the sender, running my fingers over the careful stitching.
The second was a wolf stuffed animal. A very large, very realistic one.
"How appropriate!" Michelle exclaimed. "Given that Parker was rescued by that heroic wolf during the hurricane. It was such an amazing story."
I felt Dawson tense beside me. The wolf that had saved me was currently sitting next to me on this couch, trying very hard to look like he wasn't the wolf in question.
"Very thoughtful," I managed, holding up the stuffed wolf. It stared at me with glass eyes that were unsettlingly similar to Dawson's green ones.
"There's a note," Michelle said, reading from a card. "It says, 'For the baby, from the wolf who started it all.' Isn't that precious?"
"Precious," I echoed weakly.
The third gift was a onesie with "Little Wolf Cub" embroidered on it.
Dawson made a choking sound that he tried to pass off as a cough.
"Are you alright?" Michelle asked him.
"Fine. Just emotional." He wasn't wrong. I could feel the tension radiating off him, his alpha instincts probably going haywire at the irony.
The fourth gift was a book titled "Raising Your Wild Child: A Guide to Parenting Spirited Youngsters."
"Oh, that's..." I tried to think of something diplomatic. "That's certainly a title."
"Very helpful," Michelle agreed, flipping through it. "Oh, look, there's a whole chapter on 'taming the beast within.'"
Dawson's hand tightened on my knee. I put my hand over his, a silent 'we have to get through this.'
The fifth gift was another wolf-themed item, this time a mobile with little wolves dangling from it.
"Your nursery is going to have quite the theme," Michelle laughed.
"We're leaning into it," I said, which was technically true. Our baby would literally be a wolf when they got older.
Then the pregnancy brain hit.
Michelle asked about baby names, and my mind went completely blank.
"We're considering..." I started, then stopped. What were we considering? We'd had this conversation last night. We'd made a whole list. Why couldn't I remember a single name?
"Parker likes traditional names," Dawson jumped in. "And I like nature names."
"That's lovely! Any front runners?"
"Well, there's..." I paused. The name was right there, on the tip of my tongue. "There's... the one we talked about. With the... sounds."
Dawson looked at me with barely concealed amusement. "All names have sounds, love."
"You know the one. It starts with a..." I gestured vaguely. "A letter."
Michelle laughed. "Pregnancy brain?"
"So much pregnancy brain." I rubbed my temples. "I forgot my own phone number yesterday."
"That's completely normal," Michelle assured me. "Now, tell us about the nursery."
"We painted it blue!" I interrupted, excited to remember something. "Wait, no. Green. Definitely green. Or was it yellow?"
"It's green," Dawson said gently. "We painted it last weekend."
"Right. Green. Because yellow would be..." I trailed off. Why would yellow be whatever I was about to say? What was I talking about?
Michelle, bless her, was taking this all in stride. "And Dawson, how are you feeling about becoming a father?"
"Terrified," he admitted. "But excited. Parker's going to be an amazing parent."
"Even with the pregnancy brain?" Michelle teased.
"Especially with the pregnancy brain," Dawson said, and the way he looked at me made my eyes water.
"Are you crying?" Michelle asked gently.
"No." A tear rolled down my cheek. "Maybe. I don't know why. We were talking about paint colors and now I'm crying."
"Hormones," Michelle and Dawson said in unison. Dawson offered me a tissue and I dabbed my cheek.
The interview wrapped up with me crying-not-crying over a particularly ugly hand-knitted blanket that someone's grandmother had made. It was orange and purple and possibly meant for Halloween, but the thought behind it was so sweet I couldn't help the tears.
"That was beautiful," Michelle said as we signed off. "Thank you both so much."
"Thank you for being so patient with my brain," I told her as I wiped my eyes.
"Pregnancy brain is real and valid," she assured me. "And for the record, you two are adorable."
In the car afterward, I finally let myself laugh. "I said 'the one with the sounds.' Names have sounds, Parker. All of them have sounds."
"You were nervous," Dawson replied, but he was grinning and he placed a hand on my thigh.
"And the wolf gifts. Oh my god, the wolf gifts."
"'Little Wolf Cub,'" he quoted. "If they only knew."
"We're never doing live television again."
"You said that after the weather segment announcement."
"I mean it this time." I looked down at the pile of gifts in the backseat, including the disturbingly realistic wolf stuffed animal. "Our kid is going to have so many wolf-themed things. It's going to be hilarious when they actually shift for the first time as a teen."
"Ironic, at least."
"Do you think they'll like the wolf mobile?"
"I think they'll probably try to swat it."
We shared a glance and I laughed again. Dawson reached over to lace his fingers through mine. Despite the weird gifts and my pregnancy brain and crying over ugly blankets on live television, it had been enjoyable.
Our baby who would grow up surrounded by wolf-themed everything without anyone knowing the real reason why.
"We still need to decide on a name," Dawson said.
"The one with the sounds?"
"Very helpful, Parker."
"I try."
But we were both smiling, and my free hand rested on my belly where our cub—our little wolf cub—was currently using my ribs as a punching bag.
Life was strange and wonderful and occasionally mortifying. And I wouldn't change a thing.