Page 120 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

“Agreed,” Neesha said. “Chris thinks that we’re about to have our sex lives”—she glanced at Anleigh who looked completely absorbed in drinking her milk—“come to an end as we know it.”

“I mean, it’ll change, sure.” Merriam shrugged. “But it’s one of those things where you just have to find time.”

I wondered if she’d been with anyone since she’d had Anleigh.

By the way she acted, I assumed not.

Which had my chest puffing out a little bit.

“What are…”

The door to the apartment slammed open, and I rolled my eyes to the ceiling.

“Haven’t you ever heard of a doorbell?” I called out.

“No,” Ginger said. “And I’m soaked. Back out of the way. What…”

She trailed off when Merriam popped out from behind me to get a look at who was forcing their way into my apartment.

“I’m gonna change my code,” I said to no one in particular.

“You should,” she said. “Hi, I’m Ginger. This is my husband, Jones. And you are…”

She took my sister’s hand and said, “I’m Merriam. This is my daughter, Anleigh.”

“Oh!” She slapped her forehead. “I should’ve guessed. You’re all Jer’s been talking about since he first saw you.”

My cheeks flushed as Merriam’s eyes came to my face.

“That makes me…uncomfortably happy to think about,” she admitted. “I’ve done nothing but think about him since I’d met him, too.”

Ginger giggled and patted my cheek, then looked at Anleigh in Merriam’s arms before saying, “Well aren’t you a gorgeous little thing?”

“Tanks.” Anleigh flushed just like her mama.

“So sweet,” she said. “Jones, go put all those presents by the tree. I’m gonna get started on breakfast. Noel, Kyle, the kids, and Grams should be here any second.”

I offered to take Anleigh from Merriam, and before she could say yes or no, she leaned toward me.

I took her, curling her up into my arms, and said, “Let’s go have a seat. Ginger’s a chef, and she doesn’t like anyone messing with her flow.”

“You mean, she gets grouchy when you get in her way.” Neesha giggled as she took the seat beside the Christmas tree. “I love this chair.”

“You should get one for the baby’s room,” I suggested. “You don’t have a chair yet, right?”

“No.” She ran her hand over the soft faux fur. “It’s pretty, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to get out of it after I give birth.”

“That’s important,” Merriam said as she took the seat closest to Neesha. I took the one next to her, and Jones took the one opposite of us.

“Really?” Neesha asked, looking nervous. “I’m pretty green when it comes to kids. I’ve taken care of the nieces and all, but they were already mostly out of diapers when I did. I’m just gone a whole lot, thanks to my running schedule.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Are you breastfeeding?”

Conversation flowed, and all of us chimed in from time to time.

At one point, Anleigh crawled out of my lap and into Neesha’s, but only because she was closest to the tree, which she had an intense fascination with.

Noel and her family arrived with Grams on their heels, and everyone poured into the kitchen, bearing gifts.

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