“Look at the guy on the cover, Wren. The book lives up to that cover and, trust me, you don’t need to know anything about football. Just read it.”
“I definitely will.” She slid the book to the side of the table, where it would be safe from the drinks. “As soon as I’m done with the one I’m reading.”
“Not still the horror novel?”
“Yes. It’s good, but it scares the crap out of me, so I can only read a little bit at a time.”
Horror was where their reading tastes diverged. Cait had told her she used to read them, but nowadays she preferred books with happy endings. “Do yourself a favor and read this one in between scaring the crap out of yourself. I mean, there’s no Jeep-seat burn or anything, but it’s still pretty sexy.”
Wren laughed. “Now I know how Grant is feeling when he says ‘you’re going to tell that story forever, aren’t you’ to Gavin.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
When Lydia brought their meals, she had a few minutes to sit. She stole French fries from Wren’s popcorn chicken platter and Cait’s pickles while they talked about a movie they all wanted to see that was releasing the next month.
“Aidan said he’d go see it with me if I really wanted him to, but he sounded less excited than the time he told me he might need a root canal.” Lydia shrugged. “I’d rather go with you guys.”
Cait nodded. “What do you think the chances are of all of us going together?”
“Pretty slim,” Lydia said. “We should get Olivia on board. If anybody can plan a trip to the movies with a bunch of women with crazy schedules, it’s her.”
“Lydia, am I paying you to sit on your ass and visit with your friends?”
She looked over at her dad. “Since I’m on the clock right now, yes. You are, in fact, paying me to sit on my ass and visit with my friends.”
“You’re even more of a smart-ass than your brother. This is why Ashley’s my favorite, you know.”
She just waved a hand in his direction and stole another fry. “I’ll text Olivia and get her on this. We’ll probably all have a detailed itinerary, complete with a list of the candy offerings the theater has, by the end of the week.”
“I’m so glad Derek found her,” Cait said. “Those kinds of logistics make my head hurt but she thrives on this stuff.”
“So, Lydia, have you started thinking of baby names yet?”
When she groaned, Wren realized she’d managed to step on a possibly sore subject. “Apparently, my dad was a little disappointed his first grandchild was not named after him. Jackson Kincaid Walsh was not enough. So now, my brother and I are both on the hook. There are expectations, Wren.”
“Maybe you’ll have a girl,” Cait said.
Lydia gave her a flat look. “He said, and I quote, ‘Thomasina’s a great name for a girl,’ and I’m not even lying. He said we could call her Tommy even though she’s a girl.”
“Okay, that’s...” Wren stopped talking because she didn’t know what to say.
“Thomasina Joyce Hunt,” Lydia said. “Joyce was my mom’s name.”
“Or Joyce Thomasina Hunt,” Cait threw in.
“Oh, no. You’ve met him. He wants a Tommy.”
“Jamie’s due first,” Wren pointed out. “Maybe she’ll give him a namesake and you’ll be off the hook.”
“She said she’d cross her legs and hold her baby in because she doesn’t want to deal with this.”
Cait snorted. “As somebody who’s delivered babies in surprising places, I can tell you that, from a medical standpoint, that’s an empty threat. What does Aidan say? I mean, it’s his baby, too.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “You know he adores my dad. And he’s also had some practice navigating the Kincaid family, so his response? Whatever makes me happy.”
“That’s sweet,” Wren said.
“No, that’s taking himself out of the line of fire.” She sighed and took another fry. “Scott said maybe one of us should get a dog named Tommy because nobody can realistically expect you to name your child the same name as your dog.”
