Page 63 of Ready or Not

The long blond hair on top of Cooper’s head falls into his eyes as he grins, patting the couch cushion next to him.

I nod, running a hand over my stomach as Aurora moves. Bishop was right; the movements are more subtle the closer I get to my due date. It’s wild, though. Sometimes it feels like she’s rolling over and over again. Thank goodness it’s nothing like the pain I experienced when she flipped head down.

I take the seat next to Coop.

He grins wickedly, scooting closer. “Is she awake?”

“Yep,” I agree, nodding. His hand lands on my thigh, and I grab it, sliding it under the material of the dress he picked out. I know it’s extra special to feel her move skin-to-skin.

“You’ve been pretty consistently wearing the dresses I picked.” He bites his lip. “Does that mean I did a good job shopping for you?”

“They’re very comfortable,” I acknowledge. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” His hand follows the movements all around my swollen stomach, and his gray eyes sparkle up at me as my skin bounces against his palm. “Can you believe she’s going to be here in just a couple of weeks?”

I laugh, stretching back against the cushion. “Yes and no. There’s really no room left, so let’s face it, she needs to come out, but no, I can’t believe how fast it’s coming.”

“Aww, she settled down.” He moves to sit up and pulls his hand free, but his face contorts as he clutches at his side.

“Shit, are you okay? Did you tweak your wound?” I subconsciously reach out, running my fingers over his hand that clutches his side.

“I’ll be fine. Just don’t say a word to my mom.” He grins. “She’ll worry needlessly.”

I grimace but nod.

As a soon-to-be mom, I know I would absolutely worry if I found out my kid was shot. The way he jumped right in front of me, fully covering me with his frame… Without that, I’m pretty sure I would have been the one having a bullet dug out of my body last night.

“I know I’ve already said it, but thank you, Cooper.” My hand lands on his thigh, and I give him a solid squeeze. “You could’ve jumped the other direction, and it definitely would’ve missed you.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” he says sincerely. “He was lined up for a headshot. I don’t think I believed in God until last night. I honestly thought it was going to go right through me and hit you too.”

“That was a possibility?” I ask around the giant lump in my throat.

“It could have,” he admits. “We got very lucky. Ramirez was even more baffled that the bullet didn’t travel. But Ranger handled it before he could take a second shot.”

“Wow,” I whisper, finally comprehending exactly how close I got to dying last night. “Holy fuck. Why did you tell me that?”

Cooper frowns.

“This is the kind of stuff I’m okay with not knowing.”

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. The painkillers seem to have loosened my tongue. Okay, so gifts.”

“Let’s do it,” I agree.

He grabs a bag by the edge of the couch and places it in my lap. “Go ahead.”

I reach inside and pull out a square wrapped in tissue paper. It’s about nine by seven, maybe ten by eight. I’m not great with measurements.

Ripping open the paper, it’s clear it’s a baby book. It has a metal plate with the year in a pretty cursive script, and under it is a little window to the next page. It lists all the basic information we’ll have to fill in, like her name, height, weight, birthday, and the hospital where she’s born.

I flip it open, and the first page has spots to put pictures or her footprints around the box of info that shows through to the cover. The next is for the mom’s family history, but the one after it is for the dad’s. It has a picture of Cooper as a baby, his mom’s and dads’ information, along with Cooper’s birth statistics.

“My mom spent last night filling that in for you.” He studies my face. “I hope that was okay.”

“Yeah.” I exhale heavily. “It was very thoughtful.” And something my mom never would have done in a million years. She was a good mom, but she didn’t care about photo albums or baby books. She also had to work two jobs until I turned sixteen and started chipping in to support myself. “I love stuff like this.”

“We’re going to fill it to the brim with pictures and memories,” Cooper says.

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