Page 60 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy

When I reached between her and the guest seated next to her, she nudged my arm and almost made me drop a dish. “Jeez, if you weren’t so fat, you could fit in here, huh?”

I ignored it. I knew I wasn’t fat. My short height didn’t help, but I loved my curves. I felt healthy.

Then when I poured more wine later, she smirked. “It’s no wonder you never lose weight,” she taunted. “Always around food.”

I rolled my eyes in the kitchen, peeved that she’d stoop so low. I wasn’t trying to lose weight, and it was none of her business, anyway.

The last time I had to go to her table, she kept at it. “I’m a dietician, you know,” Reagan said haughtily. “I know what I’m talking about. Besides, it’s no wonder my cousin dumped you.”

Tiffany, who was helping at the table, frowned at her.

“I know you like to say you dumped him,” Reagan added as she lifted her wine glass for a sip, “but the whole world knows no man would ever want you for long.”

I left, refusing to let her crap get to me. In the kitchen, Tiffany growled. “I can’t stand her!”

“Join the club,” Leo said in passing. “Keep your head up, Blake.”

“I plan on it,” I said, keeping busy as my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I checked it quickly, smiling to see another text from Zach. He’d been updating me about how it was going at home. George insisted that they send me pictures of them coloring, watching a movie, and playing Jenga.

I couldn’t feel lousy about myself for long like Reagan intended me to. I was giddy and happy to receive Zach’s texts. Not just because I never had before his return, but because he seemed so glad to be in touch with me. Nothing seemed forced or obligatory as we kept up a running conversation that I returned to during my breaks. He, and our son, could lift my spirits despite anything Reagan wanted to sling at me.

Zach:I did see him puke, right?

Zach:It wasn’t a figment of my imagination. You saw it too.

Blake:I did.

Zach:According to what I Googled and how he’s acting, he’s rebounding fast.

I smiled, charmed that he’d be such a good caregiver to seek the reassurance that nothing was wrong by Googling George’s symptoms and knowing what to look out for.

Blake:Yep, that’s him. He never stays down for long. Strep was harder, but he bounces back fast.

Zach:You’re not kidding. I think he’s feeling better than I am at this rate.

“Oh, no,” I whispered. I didn’t want him to suffer now. If Amanda was under the weather too, it seemed contagious, whatever it was.

Blake:Not doing well?

Zach:Eh. Maybe it was something I ate.

Blake:The pizza?

He attached a picture of their dinner a couple hours back. George had been grinning with a thumbs-up for the shot. Now that I thought back to it, Zach’s plate seemed to hold more food than George’s like he might not have had an appetite for it.

Zach:George handled it fine.

Blake:I hope you’re not next in line to be sick. I’m sorry.

Zach:No worries. It happens.

Zach:Besides, my doctor promises I’ll be fine.

He sent a picture of Zach lying on the couch, his socked feet up as George stood over him. Wearing one of my white blouses for a doctor coat, using a toy stethoscope, and wearing a doctor ID badge made of construction paper, George played pretend with the soldier stealing my heart.

I smiled, wishing it could be easier to get over my worries and tell both of them the truth.

---