Page 29 of Paternal Instincts
“No. Yes.” He nodded with more determination. “A boy. I don’t know why, but it’s what I envision when I see us parenting a child.”
“You envision us parenting?”
“Of course I do. Don’t you?”
“Yes.” I smiled. “Okay, so here’s what we’ll do. Since this has been such a hard decision, we’re splitting it. You get to pick the boy’s name, and I’ll pick the girl’s name. No vetoes. If it’s a boy, you name him. If it’s a girl, I name her.”
“That sounds dangerous. No vetoes?”
“One veto.”
“That’s it? I’m not sure I trust you enough to do this.”
I chuckled and kissed my husband again. “Or we can fight about it until they’re a teenager and let them name themselves. You’d better get going.” I planted one last kiss on his lips as I opened the door and backed him onto the stoop.
He didn’t turn to leave and stared at me with a piercing gaze. “I love you, Az, but I’ll divorce you in a heartbeat if you name our child something stupid.”
Laughing, knowing he was kidding, I tapped my chest over my heart and earned a soft smile.
“I’ll call you,” he said as he backed away.
***
“At a restaurant?”
“Yes, shocking, I know. Quaid’s orders.” I swerved around a slow-moving vehicle and darted back into the right-hand lane in time to take my exit.
My sister’s voice came through the Equinox’s speaker system. “And no games? Baby showers need fun games.”
“Quaid’s not a game person. Keep it simple. He has enough going on, and once this baby arrives, he’ll be beside himself learning the ropes. Remember how you felt when Graham was born?”
Amelia sighed. “Yes.”
“Amplify that anxiety by about twenty-five or thirty thousand percent. My husband’s OCD is better, but his ability to appropriately manage overwhelming situations is still weak. Keep it simple. Don’t apply any undue pressure.”
“Mom’s going to be pissed. She had a whole menu planned.”
“I trust you to take care of that. Blame me if you have to.”
“When do you want me to book it?”
I considered. It was June fourteenth. Bryn was technically due on the seventeenth, but she was already dilating, which the doctor said was a good sign she might go any day. “How about the twenty-eighth? That’s two weeks from today. That still allows us to settle if Bryn goes past her date. The doctor told us he would induce labor on the twenty-fourth if she hadn’t gone by then.”
“All right. The twenty-eighth at a restaurant. Mom won’t like this,” she sing-songed.
“I don’t care,” I sang back. “You know as well as I do that Mom and Dad are going to be practically living at our house, driving us up the wall the second we bring that baby home. This isn’t about them. It’s about us and Quaid’s comfort level.”
Part of me wished it was winter, and my parents were at their summer house in Florida. With them in the city, Quaid and I weredoomed to be smothered by my overbearing mother, who couldn’t take a hint.
“Your funeral.” I sensed Amelia’s smile through the phone. She was probably glad it wasn’t her for a change. “I’ll make the reservation.”
We hung up, and as I turned down Ruiz’s street, my phone pinged with a message. I parked and dug the device from the cupholder, opening a text from my husband.
Quaid:Check your email. I’ve sent the footage. Five camera feeds. Red zone is between 5:30 and 6:30 on Tuesday night.
Aslan: On it. Just got to your boy friend’s house. Could you send me a picture of the kid?
Quaid: Lol. That might help. Give me a second.
