Chapter 39 Nisha
thirty-nine
nisha
Pierce Party of Three
Two Weeks Later
My backyard looks like Martha Stewart threw up on it.
Okay, so perhaps that wasn’t the imagery I was going for.
What I mean is, it looks like the pages of a home and garden magazine came to life.
There are twinkling string lights swaying under the pergola in the soft May breeze, flowers in large mismatched vases lined down the farmhouse table, and fluffy pink blankets artfully draped on Adirondack chairs like we’re hosting a catalog shoot and not a baby meet-and-greet.
Oh, and throw pillows. Lots and lots of outdoor throw pillows. Would it even be a party at my house without them?
Though, I can’t take much credit for the party or decor since Patton hired professional decorators and caterers for this event. And while I’d like to apologize for not putting a whole lot of effort in, I’m cutting myself some slack.
Ever since we brought our little girl home, both Patton and I have gotten roughly two-point-five hours of total sleep.
I’m exaggerating, of course, but also, not really.
It’s as if Gia thinks she’s living in another time zone.
Or maybe she’s already living her best sorority girl life, sleeping most of the day and partying through the night.
So yes, when Patton called in professionals, I didn’t argue. Between cluster feeding, diaper blowouts, and baby spit up, I’ve barely had enough brain cells left to dress myself, let alone host people.
Thankfully, the temperature has warmed up, so while there’s more pollen and insects in the air, the sun feels amazing after almost a week of rain, though rain in the Bay Area is always a welcomed event.
My eyes travel to Bob sitting beside Rome and Pearl, playing an intense game of Jenga on one of the tables.
Ariana, Dev and Piper’s almost two-year-old, is giving Bob a health exam using her toy stethoscope to check his ear for a heartbeat.
Dev stands nearby, watching her. The man might be a no-nonsense billionaire whose negotiating skills in the boardroom rival that of a Supreme Court litigator, but you wouldn’t know it based on the tender way he looks at his daughter.
I can’t blame him, either. The kid is so ridiculously cute, I’m ready to permanently change my doctor and find an appointment with her.
I smile at how patiently Bob lies there, but his eyes say what his lips can’t: I’ll be giving her a one-star rating for her bedside manner after enduring this torture.
Though the real miracle has been that he hasn’t seen one of his mortal enemies—a butterfly.
I know the second that happens, he’s going to want to beg to go back into the house with his tail tucked under him, the big baby.
These days, instead of the dreaded dildo or one of my underthings, Bob’s been carrying around one of Gia’s used onesies. One is currently lying under his chin like he’s guarding a dragon’s egg.
What can I say, our dog has always hoarded personal items as a show of his acceptance and affection.
And he has loads of that affection for his little sister, sniffing and snuggling her every chance he gets.
Not a single moment goes by where he isn’t watching her like she’s a government asset under his protection.
And while it’s strange in that slightly stalker way that he parades around her onesie, I’d rather it be that than my thong while we have company.
Speaking of thongs, all mine are nicely tucked away in the bottom drawer of my dresser, to be used one day in the future when my body no longer feels like it’s being held together by stitches and prayers.
For now, I’m in my cotton, high-waisted era.
The kind that comes in multipacks and could double as a sling or a parachute in case of an emergency.
And honestly, given my boyfriend has never cared about what I wore under my clothes, so long as he could get to what he needed quickly, I have zero regrets about choosing comfort over butt strings.
And yes, to Patton’s dismay, we now officially refer to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. He would much rather we erase our past years of separation and go back to being husband and wife, but as I’ve told him before, one thing at a time.
The thought of not marrying him, when he officially asks me, hasn’t even crossed my mind—there’s no man I love more than him—but I’d at least want to look less like roadkill in the photos. Not that it matters. The paparazzi will always do me dirty, no matter how hot I look that day.
I look up, finding Patton’s eyes on me. Gia, with a knitted pink bow half the size of her body that I made for her, is tucked safely in the crook of his elbow.
It’s crazy how fast I melt when I see him like this with his broad shoulders relaxed, strong forearm and big hand holding her protectively, and that ever-present soft gaze, like he’s still unsure if this is all real, taking us both in.
And she’s no better. Just like she used to react to his voice and nearness when she was in my stomach, she coos and smiles whenever she’s in her dad’s arms. Like she knows she’s in the safest place possible.
The sight of them literally makes my chest hurt, like my heart is trying to burst out of it.
Patton’s gaze wanders down my face in that intense way of his. Nothing makes me as hot and bothered as when those eyes are on me. And from the slight smirk on his face, he knows it, too.
I give him that look—the one he knows means, “don’t you dare think those nefarious thoughts right now; we have a party to host!”
I’m just about to voice the same thing when the back door to the yard opens and the Meyer brothers stream in with their wives, with Kavi and Hudson close behind them.
Sarina, Troy, Piper, and Dev, who arrived earlier, drift over as the newcomers join our circle.
While the guys mingle, Rani and Kavi reach for me, pulling me into a hug before Mala and Bella follow suit, all of them complimenting the loose pink dress I chose to match Gia’s.
The ladies then gather around Patton, voices dropping to reverent whispers as they admire our baby.
“Oh, my God, you guys,” Rani says, beaming. “She is so freaking cute! I see a lot of you in her, Patton.”
I groan audibly, pretending to be annoyed, but honestly, I’m happy she looks so much like her dad.
“Just wait til she wakes up hungry,” Patton says. “That tiny-baby rage is one hundred percent her mom’s.”
“Hey!” I elbow his side, making everyone laugh.
“Alright, hand her over, Pierce,” Dean says, shouldering past the ladies to come stand in front of us. “This is a meet-and-greet for Gia, and you’ve literally hogged her the entire time.”
Patton raises a brow. “You’ve been here all of three minutes.”
“Exactly! That’s three minutes my goddaughter could have been imprinting on her favorite uncle.”
Troy snorts, halfway through his beer. “Technically, I’m the only one she will call uncle around here.”
Dean waves him off. “Technicalities have no place when it comes to this group.”
Probably the truest statement he’s ever spoken, given how much we all act like siblings, except with our immediate partners, of course.
Dean makes grabby hands at Gia until Patton sighs and gently passes her over like she’s made of glass.
Dean coos down at her, and I won’t lie. While I’ve never been physically attracted to any man besides Patton, if Dean ever posed for a magazine holding a baby like that, every copy would be snatched off the shelves in seconds.
Objectively speaking, this backyard is overflowing with handsome men and their equally gorgeous wives. It’s like being trapped in the most attractive group photo ever taken.
“Look at this tiny thing,” Dean says, peering down at my baby. “She’s probably already smarter than her uncle Garrett.”
Garrett shrugs, pulling Bella against his side. “Considering she hasn’t tried to high-five a spinning ceiling fan, she’s got Uncle Dean beat, too.”
Eyes closed, Hudson shakes his head like he’s in physical pain. He plucks a glass of wine from a tray that a server has brought over. “That actually happened, didn’t it?”
Kavi giggles next to him, taking a sip from her own wine.
Darian nods. “Just like the time he stepped on a wasp barefoot . . . on purpose. When it comes to our brother, you can assume the most ridiculous stories are actual anecdotes.”
Dean rolls his eyes, looking down at Gia. “Don’t you dare listen to them, precious one. They’re just jealous they’re not risk-takers like your uncle Dean. They can’t even try a new menu item without wondering if it’ll give them indigestion.”
Laughter ripples around us.
“Alright, Dean,” Mala says, tapping her husband’s shoulder. “You’ve had your time with her. It’s my turn.”
“But I just got her!” Dean says, turning his body away from her.
“Dean Meyer,” I warn, “if you startle my baby awake with all your rushed movement, not only will you have a banshee to contend with, but I’ll volunteer you as my sparring dummy for a week when I’m ready to get back to the dojang.”
Dean grimaces, likely weighing out his chances of survival against one of my kicks, before reluctantly handing Gia over. “Fine, but just so you know, I’m taking her back as soon as you guys are done.”
Mala ignores him, already melting as Gia curls into her. “Oh, my God. She smells so good.”
“Like pomegranates,” Patton declares before turning his warm gaze my way. “Just like her mom.”
Dean drops onto an Adirondack chair with a dramatic sigh. “While the baby hogs are getting their fix, it’s time I show you guys the gift Mala and I brought you guys.”
“Don’t pull me into this,” Mala chides, gently handing Gia over to Bella. “I got them normal gifts.”
Dean reaches for a bag next to him, sifting through the tissue paper to pull out three cream-colored onesies—a tiny one for Gia and oversized ones for me and Patton—that read “Pierce Party of Three”.
“Oh, my gosh,” Piper gasps, grabbing one of them. “That’s actually really cute, Dean.”