“Look!” He held up a bag. “Cal got me a distortion pedal. And Lego Technic. And new headphones with noise cancellation that’s better than mine. Thirty percent better frequency control.”
I knelt. “That’s amazing.”
Cal stood behind him. Holding another bag. Smaller.
Eli hugged me, quick, awkward, then ran inside to show Gina.
Cal stepped closer. “Got something for the kid too.”
He handed me the bag.
Inside: tiny onesies. Black with white lettering.
One said: “Future Headliner.”
Another: “Mom’s Favorite Mistake.”
A third: “Dad’s the Cool One.”
I burst out laughing, pressing them against my chest.
“These are ridiculous.”
He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “Figured we should establish brand identity early.”
I held one up against my stomach. The fabric barely bigger than my palm.
“They’re perfect,” I whispered.
He stared at me like he was memorizing the moment.
He shrugged. “Figured we should start the gender war early.”
“It’s a girl,” I said.
“Boy.”
“Girl.”
“She’s going to have attitude.”
“He’s going to have talent.”
“Or she’ll have both.”
He smiled faintly at that.
He pulled me into the room. Closed the door.
We sat on the bed together, shoulders touching, legs stretched out.
He kept pulling the onesies out one by one, smoothing them like they were fragile art pieces.
“See this one?” he said, holding up the headliner one. “That screams boy.”
I rolled my eyes. “It screams ego. Gender neutral.”
He laughed under his breath.
