I’m so totally in love with Leo Richardson.
Thirty-Six
Leo
“Argh,” she grumbles as we walk out of the doctor’s office, a stack of ultrasound pictures tucked carefully into her planner, the knowledge that our baby is the size of a sweet potato giving rise to a new nickname.
Potato.
Maybe less than creative, but…
Fitting.
“Why are you grumpy, Mama?” I ask, the breeze hitting my back and raising goose bumps on my skin. I had to come straight from a workout to the ultrasound appointment, hoping that my deodorant would get me through until I showered and changed.
Maybe I shouldn’t bother, considering the rest of the day is going to be spent packing up her apartment and unpacking her things at my place.
Good thing I have plenty of helpers to go around.
Harper’s face is soft when she turns to look at me, the same way it always is when I call her Mama.
Which means I won’t ever stop.
She sighs and turns her head up to the sky, quiet for a moment as the clouds slowly drift across the azure sky. “I’m grumpy because I wanted to find out the baby’s gender. Or I was, anyway,” she murmurs turning her gaze back toward mine. “Figures with a daddy like you that she’d be stubborn and not let us see her.”
Okay, now I’m suddenly intimately aware why she likes it so much when I call her Mama.
I take her hand, draw her against me, tucking her hair back. “Now that’s just rude.”
“I think you’re confusing the word rude with the word true.”
I snort, brush my lips over hers. “The technician said we may be able to get another scan in a month or two.”
“She’d probably give us her back then too.”
“Maybe,” I say on a laugh. “What with two stubborn people like us as her parents.”
The scan had taken longer than expected, mostly because our little guy had kept his back to the probe the entire time, requiring plenty of creativity to get the proper measurements.
“At least we know everything is okay,” Harper says as we pull into the apartment complex.
“Exactly.”
We may not know the baby’s sex, but we do know that he’s healthy and measuring properly and that’s a gift in and of itself.
Beep! Beep!
Harper jumps and I turn to glare at the source of the honk…only to groan.
“Is that…Smitty?”
“Yup,” I tell her.
“Who’s that in the front seat?”
“I think…that’s the Blue Line Matchmaker.”
“Pivot,” Smitty booms. “Pivot!”
