Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
“Baby?” I call out as I enter Whitney’s house.
“In the guest room!”
When I reach the doorway, I find her standing amidst paint cans and drip trays, a long roller in one hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to be a strong, independent woman and get this guest room set up.” She blows out a puff of air that sends the loose strands of her hair flying around her face. “Your kid is stealing all my energy.”
My kid.
“Still weird, right?” she asks with a grin like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Nah, it’s amazing.”
“What’s that?” She points to the package in my hand.
“I don’t know. It was out front.”
She sets the roller down and steps through the maze of things to reach me. Her eyes light up as she takes it from me. “Victor said he was sending me something.”
She tears into the box on one end and pulls the flap back. It’s an odd-sized box, several feet long but thin. Slowly, Whitney pulls a framed picture from the box.
I did not picture Victor as the artsy type.
“Oh my gosh!” She squeals with delight.
“What is it?” I ask. Hopefully, it isn’t a dartboard with my face in the middle.
Her lips smash together like she’s fighting a smile as she turns it around for me to see.
I wish it were a dartboard.
“He sent you another one of his jerseys?” I curse under my breath. He’s definitely trying to piss me off. “How many do you need?”
I’m imagining her entire hallway filled with them. That sounds just like something he’d do.
“No. No.” Whitney laughs as she stares at my expression—probably annoyance with a tinge of “fuck, this guy is going to be my brother-in-law.” “This one was mine.”
“Yeah?” I look at it more closely. It’s yellow with black block letters that spell out aven, just like the one on the wall, but now that I’m paying more attention, it is smaller and the number is different. “You were number seven?”
“Just like you.”
“Huh.” I take the frame and hold it up next to her brother’s on the wall.
“Let me get a nail and the stud finder.” She runs off, returning a minute later with both. I hang up her jersey and we stand together to look at it.
“Now we just need yours,” she says.
“Nah. I prefer mine on you.”
“Hmmm. You don’t happen to have one with you, do you? I left mine at your place.”
“Unfortunately, no. I’ll start carrying one with me at all times.” I kiss her, then look into the guest room. Light yellow paint covers half of one wall and there are boxes of furniture stacked in the middle of the room. “How can I help?”
“Order me food and tell me I’m pretty as I stuff my face. Then maybe put that bookshelf together.”
I laugh. “Done.”
I order food, then push up my sleeves to get to work on what will eventually be the nursery, but for now we’re calling it the guest room.
Whitney said she wants to wait to fully decorate it until we meet the little girl or boy.
My friends are taking bets on the gender.
Travis and Penn both think girl. Galaxy and D-Low have boy.
Me? I don’t know. It’s hard to picture either right now.
But I know without a doubt that I’m going to love this baby with every fiber of my being. The same way I love their momma.
“Really though, you should think about bringing some more stuff here.” She doesn’t look at me as she goes back to running the roller through the tray of yellow paint. “You’re spending most nights here. I can clean out a drawer or a side of the closet or whatever you need.”
There’s something in the way she won’t look at me that has me questioning the words she’s saying. “Are you asking me to move in, baby?”
“No.” Her face flushes, and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Maybe. Will Danny miss you terribly?”
“Probably.” I nod. “But I’ll still see him at the rink.”
“Really?” The excitement in her expression makes me laugh.
“We’re getting married. I assumed that meant eventually we might also live together.”
“Eventually, as in now?” she asks hesitantly.
I pull out my phone. Whitney shoots me a confused look as I put it to my ear.
“What’s up?” D-Low answers, casually.
“I’m moving in with Whitney. That cool?”
“What’s he saying?” Whitney whispers. “Is he mad? Is he never going to speak to me again?”
I put him on speaker. “Can you say that again?”
“Which part? The thing about how I’m going to turn your room into a library or game room or how I’m going to cry myself to sleep every night without you?”
I chuckle softly as Whitney’s expression fills with guilt.
“He’s joking,” I assure her.
“Just kidding, Whit.” D-Low laughs quietly. “But I am going to need to borrow your man occasionally. We haven’t finished our Denzel marathon.”
“You can have him when you travel,” she says, grinning now.
“Travel and two weekend nights a month,” he counters.
“One weekend night a month. We’re having a baby. I’m going to need help with diapers and all that.”
“Fine. Fine. Deal. Congrats, you two.”
“Thanks, buddy,” I say. We’d already talked about what’d happen if either of us wanted out of our lease, so I knew he’d be fine with it.
“Later.” He ends the call, and I slide my phone into my pocket.
“Well . . . now what?” I ask her.
She smiles before lunging into my arms. “Welcome home.”