Chapter Twenty-Five
Allegra
I was sitting in my office, looking at the gift someone on my team stopped in to give me a few minutes ago. I was amazed by it. It was the cutest idea—a beginner’s crochet kit to make a small, stuffed dinosaur, hatching from an egg. It was extremely thoughtful and perfect for a baby.
And exactly the type of thing I never thought about getting.
And exactly the type of thing I wouldn’t know where to begin with.
Soon-to-be mothers thought about these things. They thought about everything. Didn’t they?
I’d always thought I’d be a great mom. Remember, a kick-ass mother, to be exact? But I supposed if that were the case I would have thought about soon-to-be mom things. Right?
Right?
So it gave way for doubt to creep in. Maybe I wouldn’t be a good mother.
I was getting closer and closer to my due date, and the nagging concern in the back of my mind wasn’t going anywhere. In fact, it was going to get worse, I just knew it.
Deciding I needed to let someone in, I picked up my phone to text Brady.
Allegra: What are you doing?
Not two seconds later, I had a response.
Brady: Not much. Walking. You?
Allegra: Oh, just sitting in my office having a freak-out.
Brady: Why? Is everything okay?
Allegra: No. I can’t crochet.
Brady: What the hell does that mean?
Allegra: *sends photo of kit*
Brady: That’s nice. Gift from someone at work?
Allegra: Yeah, but again, I don’t know how to crochet.
Brady: Do you want to learn?
Allegra: I’ve never given it much thought. I’ve never given a lot of things much thought. What if I’m not a good mother?
So it wasn’t the greatest segue into my concerns about being a bad mom. But it was a valid concern, and I was tired of letting things weigh on me—and me alone.
Brady: You have to be a good mom, because I have no idea if I’ll be a good dad.
Allegra: I’m serious, Brady!
Brady: Where is this coming from? You’ve never said anything before. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve known since day one, you are going to be an incredible mom.
Allegra: Yeah, well, that’s sweet of you to say, but we have no evidence of it. I mean, there’s a very real possibility I could screw this up.
When Brady didn’t text back immediately, my heart sank. Had I made such a compelling case that now he was thinking it might be true? That I might actually be terrible at this?
My office door opened and in walked Brady. I broke out in an ear-to-ear smile.
“What are you doing here? How did you get here so fast?” I asked, unable to hide how happy I was to see him.
He laughed and pulled out the chair opposite of my desk. “I was in the city and on my way to see you anyway when you texted. I was actually thinking you should run through the details of the anniversary party with me.”
I nodded. We should definitely talk about that. But who could focus on any of that when this crochet kit was staring me down? It needed to be addressed. I showed him the gift, practically shoving it at him (okay, there was really no practically about it). “Look. Isn’t this cute?” I didn’t wait for him to speak, though, instead, quickly adding, “And totally not me?”
Again, he laughed, his eyes dancing with amusement. “It’s definitely not you. Do your employees know you?”
Shrugging, I sat back. “They’re not my employees, but, anyway, I don’t know. The point is, as wonderful as it is, it also makes me feel horrible. I’m not crafty. I don’t know the first thing about any of this crap. And these kits come with instructions, Brady. Raising a child doesn’t come with instructions.”
“Or a guidebook,” Brady mumbled.
I shot an eyebrow up. “What?”
“Never mind.”
I groaned, still laser-focused on the fact that I didn’t know if I was ready to be a mother. “What if I suck? What if my daughter doesn’t like me? Or worse, she hates me?”
This was the first time I’d said the words aloud. I’d never once shared that very real fear I had with Brady. Or anyone, for that matter.
Frankly, it felt good to have finally said them aloud.
Needing to get it all out, I finally opened up to Brady, walking around my desk to sit on his lap, his arm coming around my back instantly. “I’m scared. I’m so scared. I already love her so much, but what if it’s not the same? What if I’m no good? What if she’s embarrassed by me?”
Angling his head, he smiled. “Okay, we can finish talking about this, but after that we definitely have to talk about the party. I need a headcount and some details. I have to impress my boss, don’t you think?”
I swatted his arm as he laughed.
“No, seriously, why would our daughter be embarrassed by you?” he asked.
I sighed the biggest sigh because he was making me say it. Not that I hadn’t thought it a million times before, and heard others say it about me, but now I was saying it about myself, and it made me break out in a sweat. “Because I’m weird.” There, I said it.
“Says who?” Brady asked, rubbing circles on my back.
I pulled back and mimicked the motion on my belly, thinking about Baby, something I’d been doing a lot of lately. “People.” I felt tears sting my eyes, knowing how true it was.
As they fell down my cheeks, Brady wiped them away. “No one who’s important.”
I raised a brow and sniffled, feeling the most amazing sensation of my life—our baby had just kicked, and I felt it for the first time. “Ohmigod, Brady,” I rushed to say, eyes wide, staring at him. I grabbed his hand and brought it to my belly. “She’s kicking. Do you feel that?”
He shook his head because our daughter was making him wait for it.
I mean, she really made him wait.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, and all I could think was how she must’ve sensed I needed to feel her, to connect to her in some bigger way after my confession.
“Anytime now, baby girl,” Brady spoke to our daughter for the first time.
I smiled because this was another first, and I sincerely hoped it wasn’t the last.
Then, finally, at the sound of Brady’s voice, she gave him a good kick right where his hand was resting.
He jolted back. “Woah!” he exclaimed, looking up at me with wide eyes. “That’s her. That’s our daughter. We made her. Can you believe it?”
I nodded. Where had he been this whole time? I was only kidding. I knew he’d been right here with me the entire time, and I understood how this made it feel more real for him. It was quite the milestone to feel her being active in there.
I laughed and took a deep breath, praying that I would be a good mother to her.
Meanwhile, Brady watched me, angling his head, waiting a few minutes before speaking again. “This needs to be said, so just let me say it, okay?”
I nodded, hoping it wasn’t bad.
“Plenty of people—”
My phone rang, cutting him off. I held a finger up and cringed. I really wanted to hear what Brady had to say. “Just one minute,” I said, getting up and walking around my desk to grab my phone.
I looked at the caller ID. It was one of the vendors for the party. “I’m sorry, but I really have to take this.”
Brady slowly nodded, getting up. “All good. You answer it. We’ll talk later.”
Ugh. Why did the phone have to ring? I wanted to let it go to voicemail, but I couldn’t afford to do that. This party was too important. “Wait,” I said. I shuffled through some folders stacked on the corner of my desk and passed him one. “This is the file for the party. Go through it and see if you can get what you need from it.”
He started rifling through the pages as I picked up the phone.
* * *
Brady
After Allegra and I had been interrupted, I’d quickly scanned the file for the headcount and drink ideas she’d jotted down and felt pretty good about the anniversary party. I would’ve stuck around to finish our other conversation about her not thinking she’d be a good mom (I’d never heard anything so wrong in my life), but she was busy, so I’d left.
It was okay, anyway, because I had an idea and was itching to execute it.
Parking my car, I got out and pulled the door to the store open. Bells chimed, and I was immediately greeted by a young girl.
“I called on the way over. The shelter sent me here,” I said by way of explanation.
She nodded. It was unlikely she’d be forgetting me anytime soon. Her, or the people at the animal shelter.
I went there first, looking to get a puppy for Allegra, but there were no puppies, if you could believe it. All older dogs. Which would’ve been fine. I was all for saving animals and knew Allegra would be, too, but ours had to be a puppy.
I wanted to show her how great of a mother she’d be, and I figured the closest thing to a baby was a puppy. Right?
So here I was.
“What are the odds you have any Irish setters mixed with an Italian greyhound?” I asked, looking at the different playpens with the breeds labeled on the sides. See, if I was doing this, then I was doing this right and this puppy should be like an amalgamation of both of us.
Don’t even bother telling me, I already knew—this was a great idea. I didn’t want to toot my own horn or anything, but I was sort of full of good ideas.
Okay, so sometimes I had bad ones, but we weren’t going to focus on those right now.
The girl shook her head. “Sorry. We sell purebred or specialty dogs. I’m not sure what that dog would be—a setter and greyhound. Are you sure you couldn’t find a mutt at the shelter?”
Walking around, I bent down to pet a small black poodle. “I need a puppy,” I said for what felt like the tenth time this afternoon. “What about a purebred Irish setter or Italian greyhound then?” Imagine what Angelo would say if I got an Irish dog. I almost laughed at the irony.
But as I got to the back, a man came out, and it was obvious he was the store’s owner. “Amy, you doing okay out here?” he asked who I could only imagine was his daughter, the girl who was looking at me like I had eight heads.
She shook her head. “I have homework to do. He’s looking for an Iggy,” she said and promptly walked to the back.
“Pat,” the man said, approaching me.
“Nice to meet you, Pat. Name’s Brady. I’m looking for a puppy for a gift.”
He nodded and bent over a playpen in the back, scooping a dog up. “I heard. Iggy, huh?”
I shook my head, not sure what this guy wasn’t understanding. “No, a puppy.” What was the matter with people? I wanted a puppy.
He smiled. “Yeah, an Italian greyhound, right? That’s an Iggy. Got a litter of them two weeks ago, and this girl’s the only one left.” He held the puppy out for me to take.
Another female. I narrowed my gaze, looking at her all-gray face. I would be the odd man out—literally. “Any boys?”
He shook his head. “One, but he sold. It was a small liter. Two girls and a boy. This girl’s the only one left. She’s ten weeks, blue-gray and pretty calm. Shouldn’t get bigger than ten pounds. Who’s she for?”
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I looked at her. Even I couldn’t deny how adorable she was with her big eyes. The more I looked at her, the more I began warming up to the idea of another girl in the apartment. “She’s for my. . . girlfriend,” I said, hearing the way the word rolled off my tongue for the first time. It wasn’t bad, but it also wasn’t exactly right. Allegra and I had never talked about labels. We didn’t really need to. As far as I was concerned, she was my girl, and we were going to be a family. Hell, I was having a baby with the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about. It seemed pretty obvious to me.
But this guy didn’t need to know any of that. Hence the girlfriend comment.
He nodded, trying to pass the dog off to me. I wasn’t ready to take my hands out of my pockets yet, though. If I was still a little worried about being a dad to a baby, then being anything to a puppy was just as concerning. I was doing this for Allegra, I reminded myself. I was doing this to help Allegra. It would be good for her. Taking care of this little girl would make her realize she was more than ready to take care of our little girl. And maybe I’d pick up a thing or two, as well. But really, this was for Allegra. Yeah, my hands were staying in my pockets. “I’m good, thanks,” I said, acknowledging his gesture.
Pat cleared his throat. “Will she be stopping by to meet her?” he asked.
“No. I’ll take her,” I replied. No reason to hem and haw, I supposed. She was an Italian greyhound. She was adorable. She was perfect, exactly what I’d wanted for Allegra. And Allegra was going to be so happy I did this. Yeah, this was a no-brainer.
“You didn’t hold her,” he countered, eyeing me quizzically.
I shook my head. It didn’t matter. I didn’t need to hold her, or take her out for a test drive, or whatever it was people did with dogs before they bought them. She was the one. “It’ll be okay. She’s cute. Quiet, you said?”
He corrected me—“Calm.” Same thing.
“Good, that’s perfect. Yeah, I’ll take her and whatever else we’ll need for a dog.”
Pat grinned. “Why don’t you go do something around here for an hour? We’ll bathe her, call our vet to get her checked out, and get you everything you’ll need.”
Pat made it all sound so easy. All right, then. Allegra and I were going to be dog owners. I didn’t know why people made such a big deal out of a decision like this.
I nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll be back. But she’s mine, right?”
He nodded. “Consider her sold. Your girlfriend’s going to love her.”
Feeling good about my idea and decision to get another Italian (and a girl, no less) to add to the Morelli clan, I practically danced out.
Allegra was going to be so happy, and she was no doubt going to be head-over-fucking-heels for me and my brilliant mind. What’d she say before? She wanted our daughter to have my smarts?
Ha! I was a goddamn genius.
A dog for a mom-to-be. Man, I just loved the idea.
Feel free to give the idea to the schmuck you know who didn’t know what to get the woman carrying their child. She hadn’t even pushed yet, and I’d gotten her the perfect present.