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“Where is the reception?” Midge asks, going to the kitchen and grabbing an empty bottle.
“It’s at Portland City Grill,” I say.
“So romantic,” she says, removing a plastic bag of breastmilk from a mug of hot water. “To meet someone on a reality television show and get married without a second thought?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. I’m not actually sure Freddy would agree that his marriage has been romantic. I’ve only met Shea once, and I can unequivocally say that these two are headed for disaster. They’re so similar—too similar—and they’ve already had their fair share of explosive days together. Some good, more not-so-good. But they’re embracing it and inviting all their friends—and TV cameras—to the party tonight. So we’re going to be there for our boy.
He was the second person to arrive at the hospital and meet our boy. Although Megan’s friend Bee claims she was actually the second to meet him, just via FaceTime. She was nearly incoherent when Megan announced she’d named the boy Jude B. Carroll.
She was almost as incoherent as she was when I called and asked her for information about nice wedding chapels in Vegas.
Megan hasn’t felt ready to get married yet, but I ask her at least once a week. Just in case she’s changed her mind.
“Is there an after-party?” Midge asks, pouring the milk into the bottle as Jude reaches for it.
“I’m not sure,” I say.
That’s actually not true. There’s definitely an after-party. But I’m hoping Megan doesn’t want to go. I’d much rather just take her home and spend the night worshipping her body. Or sleeping. Sleep would be great too.
“Ainsley said they’re going to Bar of the Gods after,” Megan says, threading a long, thin gold wire through her ear.
She looks stunning in her slinky red dress. She gained some crazy curves through the pregnancy and I sort of hope she doesn’t lose them. Her hips and tummy are softer than they used to be, and I love the way my fingers feel digging into her soft thighs when I’m tasting her.
“Damn, kids.” Midge whistles. “I think I just got pregnant from that look he gave you.”
Megan laughs out loud, but I’m too worked up.
“You look gorgeous,” I say.
“Thanks,” she says, looking down shyly. She’s pulled her dark hair up and applied some dark liner to her eyes. She blinks up at me from under her bangs and presses her red lips into a sweet smile. “You ready?”
“Oh, I’m ready,” I say.
“There are children present,” Midge says in a singsong voice.
“I’ll take it outside,” I say, placing a protective hand at the small of Megan’s back.
“Wait,” Megan says, crossing to Jude and giving him a kiss on the top of his head.
He barely registers, he’s so focused on his bottle. I follow and give him a little kiss as well.
“Be good, little player,” I say.
“Stop it,” Megan teases.
“What?”
“We’re not raising a player. We’re raising a gentleman and a feminist.”
“He can’t be both?”
“Go,” Midge says. “Before he changes his mind and wants your tit.”
“Good night!” Megan says, practically running down the stairs.
I follow her, slipping past her at the bottom so I can open the door for her.
“Thank you,” she says.
