Twenty-Five
Mia
Sera and Joe’s backyard is decked out in shades of green, with sage lanterns in the trees and mint-green tablecloths topped
by fern centerpieces. I wish I could say I had a hand in how beautifully the decor turned out, but after Sera found out about
my new deadline, she forbade me from coming early to set up.
After our interrupted arboretum date, things were tense, and Gavin dropped me off at home. I can’t believe I thought that
being in a relationship would make the question of him moving simpler. Scott’s reaction to seeing us just proves I was right
to keep this between us.
Unable to sleep, I ended up writing most of the night. Between Evie’s nudging and the existential dread of not finishing in
time, I’ve managed to make it to the third act of the book. But Gavin called me at 6:00 a.m., frantic because Ash was missing.
I came over to help look and we found her sleeping in his open sock drawer. One thing led to another, and I discovered that
even if things are more complicated this way, making up is a lot more fun. I barely made it back to my condo in time to get
ready for the baby shower.
We decided to arrive separately to avoid clueing our friends in to what’s going on between us.
Well, I decided and convinced Gavin. He thought not driving together would lead to more questions.
But Sera’s aunt greeted me at the door and slyly reminded me I could’ve brought a plus-one before directing me through to the yard, proving I was right and people would’ve jumped to conclusions if I’d shown up with Gavin.
Sera wraps me in an enormous hug the moment I step outside, her round belly still small beneath her flowy maxi dress. She
wanted to wait until later in the pregnancy to have a baby shower, but her doctor mentioned the possibility of bed rest, so
we’re having it now, when she’s in the second trimester.
And by we I mean her sisters, aunts, and mother, who took over the planning, leaving me to do the text message equivalent of smile
and nod. The only suggestion of mine that won out was to request guests bring a signed picture book instead of cards.
“I’ll warn you,” she says, arm linked through mine as she leads me through round tables decked out with woodland centerpieces.
“My aunts were in charge of the games, and they’re planning to throw down. I hope you’re prepared for things to get fierce.”
She hardly looks ready for battle in a floral dress with a sweetheart neckline, her honey-blond tresses flowing loose down
her back, but when it comes to Sera, looks can be deceiving. She’s a lawyer and was winning disagreements with our landlord
back in college long before she passed the bar.
My last baby shower was at the age of eight, and all I remember was sherbet punch and blowing bubbles, but I’m always up for
a friendly competition. “Bring it on. Should I go easy on them?”
“Ha.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “Don’t, or they won’t respect you.”
“No mercy, got it.” This is going to be more fun than I expected. Also, it will be easier to hide what’s going on between
Gavin and me with everyone riled up over party games.
Joe is by the beverage table, looking handsome as ever in a loose short-sleeve button-down and khakis, chatting with a handful of guys. I recognize his two brothers, but the rest are strangers, and Sera introduces us.
“Where’s Gavin?” Joe asks, once the others have stepped away to chat with other guests.
“On his way, I’m sure.” I’m actually not sure, since I tore myself away from him hours later than planned and went back to
my place to do my hair and makeup in record time.
“Figured you’d ride together since it’s such a drive,” Sera says. They live closer to the city than us, about a half hour
away.
“Nothing like the trip out to Wisconsin, though,” Joe says. “Can’t believe Gavin’s thinking of ditching us.” He pauses, brown
eyes wide. “Please tell me you already knew.”
I brush off his concern. “It would be a big change, that’s for sure.” An understatement, but I’m trying to play it cool. “Then
again, things are already changing.” I lift my chin toward Sera’s rounded belly. “You’re about to be parents.”
She eyes me with concern, like she’s not buying my nonchalance. “But this baby is all happy news. Gavin leaving would be bittersweet,
especially for you.”
I don’t bother to play dumb. Girlfriend or not, out of the three of us I’m the closest to Gavin. More so than even Joe, though
Gavin stood up at their wedding. We used to joke about what cut of gown he’d look best in as my man of honor, but now the
thought of him giving me away to another man feels utterly wrong, like a misprinted page in a book, the text flipped upside
down. “I’d hate to see him go, but I want him to be happy.”
“Always seemed happy where he’s at,” Joe says. “Especially lately. Didn’t even have a comeback when I messed with him about
the Brewers’ losing streak the other day. I asked if he’d met someone new, but he denied it.”
“Because I haven’t.” Gavin walks up, his denial the perfect cover because it’s true; we’ve known each other forever. “Nice to know you’d be spilling the news if I had, though.” He grins and pulls Joe into a handshake-hug and I catch the scent of the woodsy cologne that lingers on his pillow.
He’s dressed for the outdoor party in chambray shorts and a short-sleeve button-down that hugs his frame. I left his house
not long ago, but the sight of him, all big smiles and casual hotness, has me flipping through my mental list of excuses in
case we get a chance to duck out early.
Joe laughs. “You know I can’t keep a secret to save my life. Besides, anything you tell me, Mia already heard yesterday,”
he says, and I don’t bother denying it. “She’s a closed book when it comes to talking about your love life, though.” He takes
a sip of his fizzy drink, eyes on Gavin.
Is it my imagination, or does a look pass between the two of them? To get Joe off the trail, I ask, “Is that a virgin paloma?”
Last week, the group text was a flurry of nonalcoholic drink ideas, and I can’t remember what they settled on.
“A sparkling peach-ginger mocktail,” Sera says. “If I can’t drink, nobody’s drinking.”
“Makes sense to me.” Gavin picks up a crystal glass and ladles punch into it. Renting tableware was Sera’s mom’s idea. At
least she footed the bill. “So what happens at these things?” he asks. “I’ve got to admit, it’s my first baby shower.”
“We’ve been to our share since starting parenthood classes,” Sera says. “But the main thing you should know, like I was telling
Mia, is my family doesn’t play around when it comes to games.”
Gavin pauses, glass halfway to his lips. “Isn’t that the point of games?”
Sera and I share a look that says easy target . “I know who I don’t want on my team,” I tell her with an exaggerated tilt of my head in his direction. He may be handsome
and the best friend a girl could ask for, but he’s one of those annoying everyone’s-a-winner types and I play to win.
“Oh, come on.” He turns to Joe. “Guess that leaves us.”
“Why not?” Joe lifts his chin to where the older women are hovering near the hors d’oeuvres, with hair-sprayed pixie cuts and lacquered bobs, deceptively innocuous in their linen pantsuits and A-line dresses. “I don’t stand a chance against those ladies anyway.”
Turns out I didn’t get to be Sera’s teammate. The women in her family insisted she pair up with her husband, claiming it wasn’t
right she be with anyone else, but I think the truth is they know he’s the weaker link and they want an easy path to victory.
I contemplated asking one of her cousins to team up with me, but figured Gavin might give me an edge since we know each other
so well.
“No way Team Baby is losing this round.” Sera points at us. “Team Besties is going down.”
Gavin cringes, like he has every time she’s called us that, and I bite back a giggle. He’s so cute when he’s affronted. The
name is awful, but I’m enjoying his reaction too much to mind.
“We’ll see about that,” I call. We’re three games in and so far, the matriarchs are dominating the competition, as expected.
They matched the most baby socks in a minute—ten more pairs than any other team—and in a purse-and-pocket-emptying game, which
seemed to be rigged in their favor, they won with a grand total of ninety items between them, not counting individual sticks
of gum.
Next up is Cram the Stroller, devised by one of Sera’s friends who’s the mother of a toddler. The goal is to fill a stroller
with as much baby gear as possible before the timer beeps.
Three games deep into this tournament, and the chalkboard bracket is taunting us youngsters. “Ready to take them down?” I
ask my partner, who’s currently on his third mocktail. I don’t blame him, it’s hot out here despite the shade from a tall
maple, and that’s not even counting the level of the competition.
He sets down his drink. “‘Them’ being a grandmother and Joe’s great-aunt?”
“Never underestimate a matriarch,” I tell him.
“You’re going down, Grandma,” Sera shouts, gathering her hair into a ponytail, and I raise my brows at Gavin. He holds up
his hands in a gesture of surrender.
Joe is eyeing his wife with mingled admiration and fear. She notices him watching and blows him a kiss. My gaze connects with
Gavin’s and we both roll our eyes, but the truth is I’m a bit jealous of their sanctioned displays of affection. Maybe I was
wrong to keep our relationship under wraps.
Sera’s aunt whistles for everyone’s attention and I shake out my shoulders, bouncing on my toes. Sera follows suit, stretching
her arms overhead and cracking her knuckles, even though she’s perched on an upholstered dining chair someone brought out
from the house.
In unison, we settle forward, me in the crouched stance of a sprinter at the starting line, Sera sliding to the edge of her
seat, ready for action.
“These two,” Joe says to Gavin.
“I know, right?” He shakes his head.