Page 28 of Paternal Instincts
He whimpered. “I know, but Az… She’s… overwhelming.”
That was an understatement.
“I’ll call Amelia.”
“And—”
“Quaid.” I pressed a finger to his mouth. “You’re going to be late, and Jordyn will have your head. Everything will be okay. Go to work.”
“You’ll start the laundry?”
“If I get a chance.”
“And call Bryn.”
“I’ll call Bryn.”
“And Amelia.”
“Quaid—”
“We still don’t have a name.”
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his. “Not into Daisy, huh?”
I felt more than saw him wrinkle his nose. “No.”
“We’ll figure it out?”
“When? At this rate, they’ll be in university before we decide anything.”
“Then stop being so difficult.”
“I’m not being difficult.”
“Quaid, we’ve gone through no less than six baby name books, and you have nixed everything.”
“Not everything… Just everything you’ve suggested.”
I deadpanned.
“What? You pick horrible names.”
“I do not, and PS, the ones you’ve picked aren’t much better.”
Quaid peered into the house, perpetual fret marring his features. “What the hell are we going to do?”
“I have a thought. Boy or girl?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“What do you think we’re having?”
Quaid considered carefully. Over the long months of Bryn’s pregnancy, he waffled. Some days, he was convinced it was a girl. Other times, he was certain we were having a boy. Then, he would read something in a book about how a woman carried or what they cravedduring pregnancy and change his mind again. He refused to find out at every ultrasound, determined that it should be a surprise.
“Boy.” He cringed as though still uncertain.
“Are you sure?”
