Chapter 21 PinkBlue
PINK OR BLUE
ENYA
I’m twenty-five weeks pregnant, and Dominic Delacour is literally, physically, and technically living with me. This means he’s here when I wake up. He’s here when I go to sleep. He’s here when I need something from the top shelf.
He’s driving me up the wall.
“I thought you had a job.”
He looks up from The Washington Post. “Yes.”
“Then why aren’t you at work?”
He grins. “Taking time off for good behavior. I’ll start after my paternity leave.”
I give an exaggerated eye roll. “You’re taking paternity leave?”
“Yes. I think all men should use their paternity leave. Don’t you agree?”
“Ugh!”
I drink my tea because there’s no winning this conversation. Nick is wily and manipulative—he does exactly what he wants and somehow convinces you it was your idea all along.
He studies me thoughtfully, his brows furrowing. “Are you worried that I can’t support us?”
I give him a withering look.
“Trust me, I can…even without a job.”
“Nick,” I say calmly. “I need you to get the hell out of the house because you’re always here. You’re at the shop. You’re…driving me nuts.”
He goes back to the newspaper. “Noted.”
“Nick.”
He looks up, smiles. “Yeah, baby?”
I sigh and shake my head. “You don’t have to constantly keep an eye on me.”
“I know.” He flips a news page. “But I’m doing it anyway.”
And he does. According to Daisy, her brother is stubborn as hell, and I should accept my fate.
What’s strange is that while he’s bossy about my water intake and whether I’ve sat down recently, he lets me make every decision that actually matters. He doesn’t argue when I say I don’t want to keep the shop schedule lighter. He doesn’t push when I say I don’t want to talk about names yet.
And between his quiet hovering and my reluctant acceptance of it, we stop talking about whether he belongs here and start acting like this—us—is already real.
So, when I tell him it’s time to set up the nursery, he just rolls up his sleeves. Cass joins him, because they’re now a team.
The nursery used to be my grandmother’s sitting room. It has a bay window that catches the afternoon light. The walls are a soft, creamy white—because we don’t know the baby's gender and I want to keep it that way.
“You don’t mind not knowing?” I ask, suddenly worried that choosing not to know if we should buy pink or blue clothes is taking part of this experience away from him.
“Enya, this kid already surprises me daily. I can wait.”
See, that’s him choosing me, again.
I stroke my belly as I watch him fondly while he scowls, reading the instructions to assemble Junior’s crib.
“Why does it have to have so many fucking screws?” he wants to know.
“I thought all men know how to put furniture together,” Cass says accusatorily, and then looks at me. “Your baby daddy is useless, Enya.”
“Hey, see that?” Nick jabs his finger toward the white and yellow changing table. “I did that. Hella lot of screws there, too.”
Cass rolls her shoulders. “I’m just saying what I’m seeing, and what I’m seeing is that you’re a disaster.”
He drills two planks together, and Cass groans. “You’re putting that on backward.”
He pauses, looks, exhales. “Goddammit.”
I grin. I take a photo of the mess on the floor and send it to Daisy with the message: At this rate, my baby won’t have a bed.
Daisy responds immediately: He can probably dismantle a bomb in sixty seconds, but can’t put a crib together. Figures!
Cass picks up the framed prints that she made for the baby. Stunning watercolors of a fox and a rabbit. When she handed them to me, I thought, “My baby is already loved.”
That feeling was exemplified when packages from Nick’s parents appeared. A bassinet with wheels. A mobile for the crib, which Daisy and Forest sent over. At this rate, we won’t have to buy any baby stuff. The thought makes me happy because that means we have people who care about our child.
My father called twice, asking me to get married. Maggie hasn’t checked on me. My birth family doesn’t care that I’m going to have a baby. But Nick’s family is all in—and I don’t feel unwanted and alone.
As Nick continues to bungle around with the crib, Cass hammers some nails for the frames, and puts the art right above the changing table. She’s going to paint a mural on one of the walls once we know if it’s a boy or a girl. It’s going to be beautiful.
I sit on the rocking chair watching my two favorite people banter.
The chair is a gift from Forest’s brother and his wife—they have one that came in handy for when River’s wife, Sunny, had a baby, so they thought we should have one.
I’ve never even met these people, and they’re sending us baby presents.
A loud sound, followed by Nick swearing, draws my attention.
“What did you break?” Cass demands, hands on her hips.
“My pride,” Nick mutters.
“You know what, why don’t you keep your manly hands off of this and let me handle it?” Cass says arrogantly.
She changes her mind about that when she starts to bitch about the directions being wrong.
Nick chuckles, feeling greatly superior. “Not so good with our feminine hands, are we?”
Then the doorbell rings and Nick frowns. “You expecting something?”
“Probably a package.” I slowly get up from the chair. “I’ll get it. You both make sure my baby has a bed.”
I open the door and am shocked to find Forest Knight standing there in Bermuda shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, an I California cap, and flip-flops, holding a toolbox.
“Hi.” He gives me a hug. “So good to meet you, Enya.”
I gape at him. “Ah….”
“Daisy mentioned Dom doesn’t know how to put together a crib. I’m experienced…and I was in D.C. anyway, so she asked me to stop by.”
Nick had mentioned that Forest may drop by, but that was supposed to be a few days later, not right now.
“Ah...hi…I…weren’t you supposed to be here in a few days?”
“Well, yes. I got in this morning and had a meeting on The Hill…and Daisy ordered me to…you know…make sure our niece or nephew has a bed before you pop.” He looks pointedly at my belly.
“Who is it, Enya?” Nick pokes his head out. He lets out a cry of surprise when he sees his brother-in-law.
They do the manly hug thing, and Nick tells Forest he’s happy indeed to let him put the damn crib together.
Cass’s mouth falls open when she sees Forest. “Is that—”
“Yes,” I whisper. “That’s him.”
Forest smiles at her, warm and genuine, after we introduce him to our friend. “Daisy loves your artwork, Cass.”
She blushes. “You’re so handsome,” she says and then clamps a hand over her mouth.
Forest lets out a loud laugh. “Thanks, darlin’. A man never gets tired of hearing that.”
And then he’s kneeling on my floor, helping put together my baby’s crib, because that’s just what families do.
I sit back on the chair and watch them—Dom, Forest, Cass—arguing about wall anchors and bed height. About safety. About space.
About my baby.
I’ve never felt like this before. Surrounded and held.
Nick catches my gaze from across the room. He comes to me, kneeling in front of me.
“All okay?”
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I just…didn’t know it could be like this.”
He doesn’t ask what I’m talking about. He knows. He presses a kiss to my belly. “It gets better. I promise.”
I believe him with my whole heart.