Page 127 of We Can't Be Friends

“No,” he corrects me, “I said before you return to Chicago, would you mind getting a gift or two for Beatrix and the baby? Not me.” He taps his chest before picking up a beer he cracked open.

“Semantics.”

“You and your bloody semantics.”

“He’s right.” Liam looks away after siding with George.

“Ha!” George takes a drink of his beer. “Admit it. You two are throwing me a baby shower. There better be a game.”

“You are the only male I know that would want one of these,” I sigh. “What is Beatrix up to, anyway? Figured she’d come over with you.”

“Her and Emerson are painting the nursery after shopping.”

“You didn’t want to help?”

“Do you think Bea would let me help? I’d be sleeping on the street. The woman can barely take any cheeky thing from my mouth. I tried to pick up a paintbrush to help, and she slapped it away.‘Don’t even think about it, Georgie. I can see it in your eyes.More paint is going to end up on me than the walls,’” he mimics Beatrix. “To be fair, she’s right.” He smiles, the same clown smile I’ve known since university. “She’s always right.”

Liam and I glance at each other at the same time. Glad he said it and not us.

“Can’t wait to christen the room, though. I’ve been thinking about it since she muttered themes and colors to me a couple of weeks ago.”

I drop my head to my hands.

Liam nods along as George swiftly tells us about the nursery's plans. The design, not the ones to try to put another baby in Bea while she’s already pregnant.

“Let’s open the gifts!” His grabby hands pluck one from the pile. “But in front of the telly, game is on.”

We move the small stack of gifts we got for him and his family to the living room. Liam darts back into the kitchen to grab our beers and his negroni.

George unwraps one present after the next. We sorted through what was left on their registry after Beatrix’s official baby shower that was in November. Emerson and Liam attended that and had already bought them a mountain of gifts. That baby will not be naked.

“This one is from Chloe.” I hand over the bag. Before I left for London, she put this in my bag and requested that it go to George.

They’ve only met once, and hit it off.

George and Beatrix visited over the summer, spending a long weekend with us. Liam and I surprised Emerson with them when we rented a boat to go out on Lake Michigan. They surprised Emerson with their pregnancy. Beatrix wasn’t far along at the time.

It took all of a matter of hours for them to be one and the same. Chloe would be the baby of George and Beatrix’s personalities.

“Do you know what it is?”

Shaking my head no, I give him a nervous smile. “Did Emerson tell you?” I ask Liam.

“Nah.”

George pulls out the white tissue paper and adds it to the recycling pile. “Heck yeah! Chloe understands.”

He turns around the shirt in his hands, revealing the saying on the other side. In hot pink letters across the chest is:WORLD’S SLUTTIEST DAD.

“Brilliant.” Liam is laughing behind the hand clamped to his mouth, shoulders and chest moving with the robustness. And I can’t help but smile. This is so Chloe, it’s perfect.

“Is that it?” I ask.

George pulls out a series of onesies that range in various funny dad sayings:

‘My daddy is a DILF (Dad I’ll love forever).’

‘I’m cute. Mum’s hot. Dad is lucky.’

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