Chapter Eighteen Bailey #3
Augusta was hanging curtains in the nursery when Bailey arrived, and she hopped down to give her a hug.
“It’s a baby girl but we’re not doing pink, or anything gendered.
We’re doing the nursery in whites and neutrals.
” Augusta announced this with the seriousness of an international diplomat bringing down the Berlin Wall, and so Bailey nodded solemnly and tried to honor the moment without smirking.
The house was an absolute disaster, crates of dishes in the hallway, bedding in plastic cases in the garage, a giant wrought-iron chandelier mysteriously in the bathtub.
“They just finished the painting,” Augusta explained.
“They had been talking to this mom in Ohio about adopting the baby, but she seemed to be deciding between them and this straight couple in Tulsa, and Eben was convinced she was going to choose the straight couple. But apparently the mom liked the idea that she’d always be the mother in some way, even if she never meets the kid. ” Augusta shrugged.
Bailey hadn’t ever thought about it, but that made sense to her on some level. The baby would have two dads and then, somewhere in Ohio, her only mom.
Dylan was with Bailey’s parents, Fran’s kids were with her mother, Augusta’s with hers, and so they spent the entire day working, RJ and Colin driving back and forth between Eben’s old house and the new one, moving sofas, tables, and the king-size bed that nearly hospitalized them both.
Fran organized the kitchen, having an engineer’s logic for the placement of cooking utensils and glasses, Van tackled the lighting fixtures, the television, the speakers, and all the electronics, and Bailey did the bedrooms, unrolling rugs, hanging clothes in the closets, and making up the beds with her best hospital corners, a skill she had learned entirely from watching reality shows about yachting.
At eight, exhausted but finally finished, they ordered pizza and opened a case of Bud Heavy, sitting around the big wooden table on the deck and comparing their minor injuries and laughing about the couch cushions RJ accidentally let fly out the back of his truck on Jeffrey’s Neck Road.
It felt like they could have been twenty again, a summer weekend by the water, nothing to worry about except for making each other laugh and carry on.
“Anyone want to play a game?” Fran suggested.
“Quarters?” suggested RJ.
“Flip Cup?” Colin tried.
“I can’t chug beer anymore.” Bailey shook her head.
“Let’s play truth or dare,” suggested Van, and everyone looked at him, bewildered.
“Dude, are you a middle school girl?” asked Colin.
“Truth or dare, Colin?” Van shot back.
“Dare.” Colin looked amused.
“I dare you to drink a bottle of baby formula.”
Colin pretended to object but went inside to grab one and they all cheered.
They went around, Bailey admitting to a sex dream about the delivery guy, Augusta chewing a piece of gum that had been in RJ’s mouth, Van taking off his shirt and doing ten push-ups on the deck.
When RJ picked dare, he was obviously hoping to be asked to jump off something tall wearing a costume, but instead Bailey dared him to open up his phone and show everyone the pictures in his hidden folder.
“Whoa, that’s gangster, Bailey,” Augusta cautioned. “RJ, you don’t need to do that.”
“Wait, now I really want to know what RJ has hidden on his phone.” Bailey laughed. Would it be super gross porn? Photos of someone they knew?
“Fuck it, I’ll do it if everyone else will.” RJ grinned.
“Everyone?” Augusta balked. “I feel like we already know enough about each other. Caroline Lash aired our dirty laundry.”
“Yeah, this is too much,” Fran agreed.
“No, let’s do it,” said Colin suddenly. “Let’s get it all out there.”
And so they did. RJ opened his phone and they passed it around, his hidden photo folder full of underwear models and brunettes in swimsuits. Fran rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
Bailey went next, hers a series of naked selfies, both pregnant and not, and the guys glanced at them only briefly before passing the phone along, careful not to be overly weird and pervy.
Augusta’s were boring, all photos of her forehead before and after using her red light facemask, and Colin’s were even less exciting, banking screengrabs and 401(k) passwords.
“What did you think I’d have on there?” Colin looked up mischievously and Bailey let out a surprised laugh and then covered her mouth.
Van went next and Bailey waited curiously for the phone to get to her.
Would Van have pictures of Caroline? Pictures of her?
Instead, the photos were close-ups of skin, torsos, and legs, all too close to discern even real shapes or the owner.
“Who the fuck is this, Vanny? This is the weirdest bunch of nudes I’ve ever seen. ”
“Oh, they’re me,” Van admitted, embarrassed. “My dermatologist has me keeping track of my moles to make sure none of them are cancerous. So I keep them hidden.”
Bailey cackled. It was the most Van thing of all time. Even his darkest secrets were dorky and kind of great.
“Okay, last but not least, Fran.” RJ held out his hand for her phone.
“I’m going to pass.”
“No way!” Bailey cried. “I showed everyone my nudes!”
“Skip me. I’ll do something else.” Fran shook her head.
“You can just show me,” RJ wheedled. He took the phone from Fran, tapped through to her hidden folder, and then held it to her face to open. As he flicked through the pictures he frowned, and Fran watched him silently. “Who is this guy?” he asked, and Bailey realized she’d made a terrible mistake.