Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
He felt Delaney’s hand lift before it clamped right back down.
“Okay, it’s not that bad,” she told him. “Manageable.”
“Bad enough for a—”
She cringed. “Just a little fade.”
Her hand raised to show the inch or so she’d have to work with to blend in the mistake.
Lucas laughed harder.
“It’s not funny,” she insisted.
“It is, a little.”
Delaney huffed, her hand still pressed to the back of his neck. “Is not. I’ve got more practice than I need to know how to keep from making these kinds of mistakes. You distracted me with all your talk of Valentine’s and babies.”
“More the baby, huh?” he tried to joke.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, more the baby.”
“Here I was sitting here freaking out because you didn’t say yes or no to dinner, but now I’m thinking that I should be asking something else.”
“I said yes—of course, that’s what I said.”
“That’s what you meant?” he returned.
Delaney didn’t hesitate. “Next time, let’s keep any and all surprises until after the haircut, huh?”
“That’s what you meant.”
It wasn’t a question this time.
“I’ll give you an address to pick me up, you give me the time,” she said.
Fair enough. He could work with that.
“So, who’s pregnant?” Lucas asked, grinning.
Delaney smiled back, shaking her head. “Apparently, my best friend.”
Chapter 9
“Mira Belle,” Delaney suggested.
“I’ll put that one on the list.”
It seemed to be an elusive list. One Gracen protected because she refused to go back down over the names she agreed were worthy enough to make the list, proclaiming the name she did pick would remain secret until the baby finally came along.
In the mirror of the portable, lighted beauty mirror sitting on the table, Delaney’s reflection grinned. “Oh, that’s my first one to get on the list.”
“Stop saying it like that. Malachi does that, too.”
Delaney giggled. “You’re taking this name list very seriously, Gracen.”
“It is serious! They’re going to have this name for the rest of their life, Delaney. I want them to love it as much as I do, okay?”
Yeah, so it better be a good one, right?
“Eden Sophia,” Delaney said, adding a new one for Gracen to consider.
“I definitely like the Eden bit.”
“Eden …” Delaney dug in her brain for a middle name that would sound good—a parent had to realize not only would they say the name a lot, but they could also be yelling it often, too; one would want the name to sound good being said in any particular way. “Oh, Eden Reed Anders.”
Gracen’s muffled laugh chirped over the phone before she muttered, “You know, that actually sounds good.”
“I know, right?”
Delaney pulled that one entirely out of her ass, too. Not that she expected Gracen to use her last name even if she was the first official, not-blood related auntie of Baby Anders. Or, that’s what she had taken to call Gracen’s unborn baby in her head.
“Pizza sounds perfect,” Gracen told her companion on the other end of the call. “Especially if you’re the one making it.”
Malachi’s rumbly laughter echoed in the background of the call, but his words were a muffle that Delaney couldn’t properly distinguish. The lull in conversation allowed Delaney the time to resituate her makeup on the table before putting the call on speakerphone.
Across the room, her cousin acted uninterested in the phone call. Or Delaney’s makeshift beauty counter with every piece of makeup she had spread out like a buffet made of shimmers and rouge from one side of the table to the other. They didn’t have a large enough bathroom to comfortably do much other than get in the bathtub or stand from the toilet to immediately be against the sink under a very small mirror.
She needed more room to work.
Not that she would use all of her makeup. Despite the mountain of makeup that took three bags to keep contained, Delaney rarely wore more than a natural look. A light foundation. Faint highlighter on the high points of her face. A nude shade of lipstick. Her most difficult choice was which eyeliner to use to make her favorite wing, but in the end, she almost always picked the same one for that, too. It was the blackest of black liner, and it went on smoother than anything else she had tried.
When shopping, her eyes were often needier than her hands and heart. If it looked pretty, she’d buy it. The fact she might already have the same shade of eyeshadow—that she didn’t use—wasn’t that important. Delaney was trying to get better about those bad habits. Money didn’t grow on trees, but someday, the effects of her consumerism would end up in the ground when she tossed all of her expired products into the garbage. The trees wouldn’t like that, either, right?
“You know,” Gracen said, coming back to the conversation with Delaney while a familiar mewing filled the background, “I’m only ten weeks pregnant, and we’re sitting here going through names like this baby is coming tomorrow. It’s like when I went shopping and couldn’t help but buy at least ten different things that were gender neutral because the baby needs something.”