Page 107 of Falling in Love with Two

Dylan says, “It was really cool seeing the baby.”

“Especially now that it actually resembles a baby,” I agree.

“How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good. My back hurts a little, but I think that’s normal.”

He keeps the conversation going, distracting me long enough to get us to our destination. Much to my surprise, we pull up in our driveway. I look over at him. Instead of giving me any type of explanation, he says, “Wait here for just a second. I’ll be right back.”

“Uh…okay.”

He practically springs from the truck to the front porch. He’s only in the house for a couple minutes before running back. Opening my door, he holds out his hand for mine. I take it and let him lead me inside.

As we walk through the front door, I see there’s about fifty candles lit all over the living room. The lights are dimmed, and the room is bathed in a warm glow. “What’s all this?” I ask.

“You and I are going to have a relaxing and romantic evening together. I was hoping to do it somewhere else, but we’re making the best of it.”

I smile at him, so he knows I’m not upset. “I love it.”

“I’m going to make us something to eat. While I do that, I ran you a bubble bath in my bathroom.”

“With the big tub?” I beam.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I follow him there and see the bathroom is set up just like the living room. With all the candles. The bathtub is full of bubbles and rose petals. There’s even a little shelf hanging across the tub that holds a cold drink and an iPad.

“What’s with the technology?” I ask. “Are you hoping I’ll drop it in? Because I don't know that it would have the same effect as a toaster.”

“Please don’t drop it in,” he laughs. “I didn’t get the insurance on it. It’s there if you want to watch or read something.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

He leaves me alone so that I can get naked and settled in the water. It feels amazing to just unwind. The problem, though, is that it’s me. I’ve never been all that good at unwinding—unless there was booze involved.

It takes no time for my mind to start racing.

Is the baby a boy or a girl? Which would be easier to raise? They say girls are more mature, but the teenage years are hell. And little boys are filthy all the time. Do I want motherhood to be harder now or later? What if the kid hates me? What if they turn all demonic like the kid in The Omen? Thanks, Dylan, for making me watch The Omen. If it’s a boy, there’s no way we are naming him Damien. What would we name it if it’s a boy?

Aaron? Nope. Dated one of those.

Jimmy? No, that was the name of the kid who pulled my hair in high school.

Jonas? Nah, sounds like a cowboy’s name.

How the hell are you supposed to name a kid? What if we give them an awful name, and they resent us for it?

“Dylan!” I yell.

He comes running in. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. But what if we name our kid something stupid?”

He crosses his arms over his closet and leans against the door frame. “What?”

“What if we give our kid a dumb name, and they hate us? How the hell are you supposed to name a kid? They’re all either names of people I hate, or they’re demonic?” As I get more and more worked up, my voice cracks.

He comes over to sit on the toilet next to the tub. “What if we just don’t name our baby something stupid? I’m sure we can think of something.”

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