Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Somehow, the sound of the Proud as a Peacock flock brought home the reality of what we were doing.
“We’re having a baby today,” I said in wonder as we drove past the camellia that Tucker and Dunn had given us as a housewarming gift and the elaborate mailbox stand wrapped in woven wisteria vines.
Lane sighed. “We’re having a baby today.”
I glanced over at him. “You’re going to be an incredible father. You’re smart, caring, and kind. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my kids’ father, Lane.”
He turned to me with suspiciously moist eyes. “Stop it.”
I smiled as I turned back to watch the road. The silence sat heavily and expectantly between us.
“Jay?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“Thank you for believing in me. And thank you for loving me. You’re going to love our daughter so well. I feel just as lucky. I’m just…”
“Scared.”
“Terrified.”
I pulled up our joined hands and kissed the back of his. “I’ve heard it’s normal. Half that baby shower advice journal was basically people saying we’re going to fuck up, and that’s all part of it.”
He took in a ragged breath and let it out. “Yeah. ‘You’re fucked, but you’re in good company’ is not as reassuring as they probably thought it was.”
It didn’t take us long to get to the hospital, and when we finally got into the maternity ward, Lane seemed shocked by the crowd in SaraCate’s room.
“Why have they let all of these people in here? The woman’s in labor, for God’s sake!”
I squeezed his hand. “Babe, you’ve met the Winchell family. They’re a little…”
Pete sidled up to us. “Unbearable? Overwhelming? Gauche?”
“Spirited,” I insisted. “And obviously incredibly generous. Your sister especially.”
Pete dragged in a long-suffering sigh. “Agreed. But let’s not forget this situation is helping her follow her dream.”
Lane waved a hand in the air. “Sending her to art school is nothing compared to the gift she’s giving us. She’s an angel on Earth.”
“Get the fuck away from me,” a familiar feminine voice snapped. “You’re not putting a needle in my spine. I’d rather shove a bowling ball out of my—”
“Sister dear,” Pete sang in a loud voice. “Your baby daddies are here.”
“Oh, thank God. Lane, tell me you brought pork rinds.”
Lane flicked a startled glance at me. I shook my head and stepped ahead of him. “Know what we brought? Our Lamaze breathing techniques and strong hands for massaging—”
“Fuck breathing,” she said in a strangled voice, grasping her giant belly with one hand and holding out the other to Lane. “Give me screaming. Give me cussing. Give me a fucking hand to squeeze, damn it!”
Mrs. Winchell, SaraCate and Pete’s mother, stood to the side, wringing her own hands. “I really think you should let them do the epidural, honey. Remember last time you wished you’d—”
“I know what I’m doing, Mama,” she gritted out, shooting me a pleading look. We’d talked about how she might come to a point of needing family intervention on account of her “daddy’s delicate temperament.” Sure enough, Tony Winchell sat in a recliner in the corner, staring at his daughter on the bed as if she had aliens for arms and honeysuckle vines growing out of her ears. His eyes never blinked, and his lips appeared to be turning a little blue.
In high school, their daughter had learned accidentally she was pretty good at being pregnant. She’d also learned she was not at all interested in becoming a mother until “the sun set over… wherever the hell the sun never sets.”
“Alrighty,” I began, plastering on a big fake smile. “It seems like any minute now, Nurse Erin is going to pop her head up and force everyone out, so why don’t we all go ahead and say our goodbyes?”
Tony bolted up and dropped a kiss and a “good luck, darlin’” on SaraCate’s forehead before making a beeline for Kentucky. Or at least as far as he could get on his own two feet. Mrs. Winchell sighed and approached her daughter. “You’re going to do great, honey. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
I could see my husband’s hand turn white under the hard squeeze from SaraCate’s grip. “No, thanks, Mama. The boys are gonna help, and this is their show.”
Lane and I knew this was part of the script we’d agreed on earlier, but I still felt guilty. In actuality, she wanted to save her family from bonding with the baby right away and make sure the first time they met her, she was in our arms instead of SaraCate’s. We’d given her every opportunity to set her own terms, and she’d decided this was for the best.
It didn’t make it any easier.
Once everyone but Pete was gone, he walked over and brushed her hair back from her forehead before meeting her eyes. “You’re the strongest woman I know, and fuck you for doing this for them before you could do it for me.”