Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
WELLS
“Freya.”
“Too Nordic,” Wells grumbled. He scanned another bib for their baby registry in the Baby Be Mine boutique. “Eunice,” Wells counter-offered.
Allison screwed up her face, her button nose scrunching. “Too…Eunice-y.”
Wells chuckled, and his hand moved to the small of her back as they maneuvered into a tight row of merchandise. “Eunice was my grandmother’s name. I stand by it.”
It had been a week and a half of living together, and Wells was shocked to admit he’d loved every minute.
It had been easy. Fun.
Suspiciously easy and fun.
He still didn’t quite trust it.
He loved seeing Allison’s stuff everywhere—her endless lotions and bottles on his bathroom sink. She’d unapologetically taken up space on the counter, unpacking every single one with a raised eyebrow as if daring him to comment.
As if taking up a foot of space on his long bathroom counter was a hardship he had to bear.
Her prenatal vitamins needed their own basket in the kitchen.
She’d given him shit for not taking better care of himself when she realized he took exactly zero.
Every day, he woke up to a multi-vitamin gummy with a note from the baby to guilt him into taking it (“Dear Papa, please take this so you have enough energy to chase after me. Love, Baby Blorgen,” “Dear Papa, Mom wants you to be healthy so you can pick up her crab rangoon tonight, Love, Baby Bertha,” “Dear Papa, do vitamins help make baby siblings? Probably doesn’t hurt. Love, Baby Ashleauigh”).
And of course there were the omnipresent flowers on the kitchen island.
Bright, colorful dahlias had been in rotation, and he smiled every time he saw them. The spunky, complicated pink blooms were a happy reminder of her.
But his favorite part?
From day one, she’d hidden those fucking ceramic kittens where he’d least expect it.
She’d packed every last one on principle when he’d asked (begged) her to move in.
He’d pull open a kitchen drawer for a spatula? A ceramic kitten in a big floppy sunhat stared up at him with a maniacal expression of whimsy. He’d grab for his razor in the morning? Nope, he’d grab that fucking croissant-eating kitten instead.
He’d found four in his glove box.
They seemed to be multiplying. Was she buying them on eBay? he’d thought as he’d placed them carefully in the passenger seat.
He’d held them all for ransom, but the she-devil had outwitted him and found them at the diner. Tiny had ratted him out.
Every day, he’d brought over a load of things from her house.
He told himself it was so she wouldn’t injure herself on the stairs to her bedroom or bathroom.
Hell, even her porch steps weren’t that steady.
So then he’d started bringing things from her living room.
It was a small trip every day, but now his living room was overflowing with yarn and knitting needles.
He’d even thrown in a doily because he was feeling generous after some particularly mind-blowing sex the previous morning.
God, Keith was such a fool, he’d thought as he caught a flying kitten tumbling over the shelf edge, grabbing for a water glass the day before.
He’d gotten used to listening to her cozy murder shows in the evening as she knitted a hat for Unnamed Baby Styles-Maroo, and he rubbed lotion on her belly so she didn’t get stretch marks.
He frankly thought stretch marks were badass, but he supported her choices.
Plus, lotion massages usually led to far more fun activities.
Allison rounded her way into the next aisle in Baby Be Mine and flipped through onesies, scanning two. “Maybe Margaret. Call her Maggie for short.” She spun around quickly with excitement at the idea, teetering sideways, as she was prone to do these days.
Wells grabbed her waist and elbow. “I think we gotta get you out of this tiny shop full of sharp corners,” he said with a scowl, looking around.
“Are you calling me, a woman who is six months pregnant, a bull in a china shop?”
“I would never do something so…” He struggled for the word.
“Stupid?” she said with a laugh.
“Uncreative.”
They’d worked through the specifics of what the first few months would be like. Allison would breastfeed, if she was able, for as long as possible. They would try washable diapers for as long as they could stomach it and then switch to disposable like most people.
Allison scanned a bottle dryer stand for the registry and stopped to read a flyer on the display case. “They have family music classes here for ages six months to two years.”
“Maybe Shortcake will be a musical genius,” Wells said, delighted by the idea.
Allison rolled her eyes. “Maybe she will have fun.”
Wells’s smile twitched as he enjoyed teasing her. “I think we’ll make the memory of our child dominating the music class with her extraordinary savant-like abilities fun. You and I will become instantly famous attending the class together, fending off her growing fan base.”
“You’d do something like that? Not the ridiculous part, but the family music class?” she said with a curious expression that, frankly, offended him.
“Sure. That’s what I’m doing this whole thing for. To have experiences. Enjoy the whole process. I bet you can bang a bongo with the best of them,” he said, his lips coming to her temple as they moved to the next aisle.
Wells glanced around the store. Couples wandered through holding hands, pointing, trying things out, looking gleeful preparing for their new phase of life. Looking like they were in love.
Like they were raising a baby together together.
As Allison turned her face up to him with a bright smile as she showed him another item for the registry, he couldn’t help but press a quick kiss to her lips, which were painted a shiny peach today to match her summer dress with strawberries all over it.
The normalcy of it all flattened him like a truck.
How natural it all felt with her.
She’d made breakfast that morning. He’d woken up to the smell of french toast and coffee that she’d brewed for him along with her decaf chai latte. He’d kissed her at the stove like it was nothing. Like they had a thousand, five thousand, ten thousand more mornings together.
But the late-night cuddles, the soft mornings when Tiny covered his morning shift at the diner, holding her as she dealt with another unexpected frustration of being pregnant—like not being able to tie her shoes that morning—it had all made him feel so fucking good.
Did the partners of pregnant women also glow? That was kind of what he felt like right now.
It was all too good. He was getting too used to it. If it felt like this right now, he could only imagine the emotional tightrope over the Grand Canyon they would walk when a real baby appeared in their lives.
The joy they would share together, the frustrations, the commiseration of no sleep.
This is just a blip. If people-who-fucked had a honeymoon period, we’re in it. That’s all.
It would all get hard soon, and everything in his life would go back to the way it was.
Just don’t catch any feelings, he thought, then went back to scanning teething rings for their registry.
ALLISON
Week 25: Your baby is the size of a small teddy bear
“Alright.” Dr. Lopez pulled her head out from beneath the drape-covered stirrups of Allison’s legs. “You can come down,” she said with a gentle pat on Allison’s hip.
“Oh, thank god.” She’d never had this much airtime for her private parts ever.
“Everything’s looking good. Baby is the right size for six months. Your blood work’s coming back fine,” Dr. Lopez said, staring at her laptop as she pulled off her gloves. “Though your iron’s a little low.”
Wells sat beside her, writing down every word. “I’ll add steaks for dinner tonight.”
“I wish all dads were as involved as you,” Dr. Lopez said, beaming. She pointed her thumb at Wells. “You should have seen this guy when he was president of our class.”
“You guys went to school together?” Allison asked.
“Oh sure,” Dr. Lopez said with a smile as she typed in her notes. “I think we even went to winter formal together sophomore year?”
“Freshman,” Wells corrected with a warm smile.
“Right.” Dr. Lopez nodded. “Skylar moved to town that spring…” Her eyes widened, looking like she’d made a mistake. She shook her head.
Wells’s smile was tight, and Allison ached for him. She knew exactly what it felt like to have people pivot conversations around you.
Dr. Lopez’s smile went even brighter. “Anyway, he was a good dancer. That’s what I remember,” she said with a wink at Allison. “So, let’s talk about you. Have you thought about your birthing plan? Who’ll be with you?”
“Oh,” Allison said, not anticipating the conversation. “I mean, I initially thought my mom, but…”
Things had been strained ever since the baby announcement months ago.
“I assumed I would be there,” Wells said quietly.
“You guys can talk it over,” Dr. Lopez said warmly. “No need to figure it out today.”
“I want you there,” Allison said quietly. It tumbled out before she’d even realized it.
How could she do this without him?
His eyebrows lifted, his expression hopeful. “Really?”
Allison nodded, and everything faded away as she realized she’d wanted someone like him for so long.
Someone who volunteered to be there for her, insisted she be taken care of. Fought for her.
Why had she resisted it?
“Cara will help you out front. I’ll see you next month,” Dr. Lopez said, squeezing Allison’s knee as she left the room.
“Thank you,” Allison said quickly, being shaken out of her thoughts. She’d gotten lost in the moment with Wells.
“I’m surprised it’s not a fight,” he said, holding her hand as she hopped off the table.
“I mean, me too?” she said with a surprised smile.
He looked at the clothes on the chair. “You’re not gonna make me turn around again, are you?”
“It’s so embarrassing.” She winced.
“Allison, I saw you naked last night. No wait, this morning.” He snapped with a delighted smile.
She rifled through her stuff. “Turn around.”
She reached to put on her underwear and groaned. “Oof.”
“Just let me help you.”
“It’s my underwear,” she murmured. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Allison, I am intimately acquainted with every single aspect of you. If I get to be in the delivery room, we’re really going to get acquainted,” he said with a snort. “Seems like a good trial run.”
Shortcake had started to lean on her organs lately, and it made deep movements difficult.
A man wants to help you. Enjoy it while it lasts. This all goes away once the baby is born. “Fine,” she moaned.
To his credit, he didn’t crack a joke. He leaned down and gently held her hand as she stepped one foot and then the other into her maternity panties. He tugged them up her legs.
“Okay, okay,” she said, grabbing it from him underneath her doctor’s office gown.
He shook out her summer dress and helped her zip it up in the back, fluffing her hair out of the collar so gently.
Who was this man? Who so gently pulled her hair out of her collar. Who held out her panties that, while clean, were not unworn. Who made no snide remarks, nothing cutting.
Who was kind to everyone he met and especially kind to her.
“If your mother is in the delivery room, I cannot be held responsible for what I might say,” he said as she grabbed her heavy purse. “Here, I got it.” He hefted it onto his shoulder. “Goes with my shoes.” He lifted one up with a silly smile.
A carefree smile, his eyes sparkling with humor and warmth, designed to make her smile back. It made her insides swoop with delight and tingling and—
Oh god.
Oh no.
I’ve caught feelings.
Stupid, stupid Allison. She’d thought it wasn’t even possible to like him, let alone look forward to seeing him, being delighted by him.
And here she was, about to lose this in three months after they became platonic co-parents again.
Her eyes filled, and she blinked them quickly.
“You okay?” he asked, his face full of concern.
“Yeah, just excited. A lot of feelings,” she said, covering it up.
She liked his giant luxury bed, his comfortable shower with its dual-action jets and detachable showerhead.
But more than all that, she liked—closer to loved—having a partner in crime, somebody who thought ahead as much as she did. Who shouldered his share of the burden. Who was happy to be on this ride with her.
She sighed, looking at his handsome face. A big, mushy, six-foot-five cuddly teddy bear who would bang down your door so he can take care of you.
She’d caught Feelings with a capital F.