Page 202 of Bossy Hero

Unlike what happened with Lettie.

Bitterness seizes me by the jaw, its grip steely and unyielding. My nostrils flare, and my cheeks undulate as I force the emotion down.

I shuffle to the next photo, my eyes catching on the text in the upper corner. “Baby Stillman,” I read aloud, surprised I’m able to find my voice through this paralyzing grief.

How long will I be mourning these stolen experiences lost to time?

“Well, it didn’t seem right to call it Baby Holt.” Lettie clicks her tongue. “After all, it’s just a matter of time.Right, babe?”

I drop my stare from the photo long enough to see her giving Tomer some choice side-eye. My mouth quirks at one corner.

He shrugs and grins. “We’ll see.”

Yeah, right. I bet he has a ring picked out already.

Huh. I better pull him aside to ensure he knows how to propose properly.

Then again, I’m not exactly an expert. As demonstrated earlier, when I talk to Maddie about the future, she impersonates an ice sculpture.

My eyes fix back on the squares of paper. I hold them side by side, looking for differences.

Instead of focusing on the sorrowful past, I remind myself of the joy headed our way in a few months. An earnest smile languidly spreads until it covers my whole damn face. “This is pretty cool, kiddo. Thanks for sharing this with me.”

“Well, of course. You only get to be a first-time grandpa once.”

She’s laying it on a little thick. But since I need the comfort, I’ll happily accept it.

I offer the photos to Maddie. “Did you see these?”

“I did. Adorable, huh?”

I study them for another few seconds before handing them back to Tomer. “Congratulations, son.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, his cheeks flashing crimson.

“We asked the ultrasound lady to write down the gender for us.” Lettie lifts her plate, revealing a hidden envelope. “Any guesses before I open it?”

Maddie’s jaw gapes. “You’re gonna open itnow?”

My fork pauses in front of my mouth. “Wait, wait, wait. We have to save that for the baby pool.”

“Baby pool?” Lettie’s brow furrows. “What on earth do we need that for?”

“Your father likes to bet on things,” Tomer offers, then stuffs a bite of salad into his mouth.

Her lip juts into a pout, and she looks at me from under her lashes. “I don’t want to take that from you, but I sort of wanted to save this announcement for the immediate family. That’s why I organized our private dinner. Perhaps you can do some bettin’ on other details closer to the birth?”

This girl is killing me tonight. It’s as if she knows my heart needed some patchwork after the earlier hit it took.

“Go ahead and open it,” I encourage.

Tomer leans back in his chair, his face colored with amusement. “She’s pretty hard to say no to, isn’t she?”

“Impossible.” Chuckling, I face Lettie and point my chin at the envelope. “Do it.”

“Drum roll, please.” She positions her fingertip at the envelope crease and slides it under the flap. “Last chance for guesses.”

“Girl,” Tomer announces, then immediately doubles back. “Scratch that. Boy.”

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