Page 102 of Mismatched

“Thanks for being here,” I say.

“Are you kidding? It’s the first party for Lydia Junior!” She winks. “But also, your mom, sister, and husband all in the same space? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

I glance toward the kitchen. “You have no idea.”

Once everyone’s arrived, things become sort of a blur. But Celia runs everything so efficiently, I don’t stress about it. Anton and my mom form a truce long enough to set out food buffet-style in the dining room. We play some very stupid, but lighthearted games. And because this is Colorado where weather forecasts are an inside joke, the sun eventually peeks out, allowing people to spill out of our cramped bungalow into the backyard. Celia even convinces our mom to make herself useful recording the gifts and who they’re from as I open packages. Which keeps her so busy, she doesn’t have time to offer commentary.

Finally, after all the blankets and toys and little outfits are unwrapped, I sit up and smile at all the people gathered to help us celebrate the start of our little family.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” I say, drawing everyone’s attention. “It means so much to us. We’re excited for all of you to meet our little girl.”

I get a swift kick to the upper right side of my belly, as if she’s trying to punctuate her presence.

“Do you two have any names picked out?” Charlotte asks, looking curious.

“I still like Eileen,” my mom says, which is her own middle name. I can feel Anton roll his eyes.

“Sorry, Mom, not on the short list. We’re still debating.”

We actually settled on a name yesterday, but decided to keep it between us until she’s born.

“How long until we can put her to work with the dogs?” Henry asks, and everyone laughs, but there’s a subtle anxiety to his tone. He has asked me almost daily if we should hire someone to help out while I’m gone.

“I do expect her to be a regular around the Pooches,” I say, looking up at my husband and raising my brows. He gives my hand a light squeeze and nods. “But actually, Anton’s decided to try out being a stay-at-home dad for a while.”

There is an audible gasp from my mother, but if she makes any proclamations, I don’t hear them over the chorus of encouragement and congratulations, the loudest of which comes from Caprice.

“Way to go, Mr. Mom!”

Anton actually blushes a little, but when Seth claps him on the back, his smile lights up the room.

Henry comes over, telling us several times what a great idea he thinks it is, and what a cool dad Anton will be, until I finally have to make excuses to slip away to the bathroom. But as I reenter the hall after washing my hands, I hear Caprice’s voice coming from our almost-finished nursery.

“Hey, girl. How’re you doing?”

“Oh, pretty good, all things considered.” I recognize Marisol’s reply, though she sounds a little stiff. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“That makes two of us.” Caprice chuckles. “Listen, I just want to thank you again. I know things haven’t been easy since?—”

“I don’t regret it.”

I bite my lip. It was not my intent to eavesdrop, so I decide to just walk by before hearing anything else. But as I do, Paloma spots me from her seat on the floor, surrounded by a pile of board books.

“Cake time?” she asks in her high, hopeful, two-year-old voice.

I pause at the door and smile. “How did you know?”

Marisol snickers. “She thinks she gets dessert every time she sees you.”

“Sounds like a perfect friendship to me.” I wink at Paloma.

Caprice makes a hasty move for the door, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Love what you guys have done in here, Lyd. I’m going to grab some food.” She clears her throat. “Nice to meet you, Marisol.”

Marisol nods but doesn’t say anything, and I stand there after Caprice leaves, trying to decide if I should say something. I’ve wanted to approach Marisol about Unmatched ever since she told me her ex-husband was outed in Caprice’s article. I didn’t realize they’d actually worked together.

But then Paloma starts begging for cake, and Marisol scoops the books off the floor, asking her to put them away. “I hope you don’t mind Paloma helping herself to your library. She’s obsessed with Moo, Baa, La La La!”

“Not at all.” I shake my head. “No one else is here to read them yet.”

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