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He held his finger up to his lips. “I won’t tell anyone but Blake and Ella.”
“I already asked Andrew to talk to you about it. Before, when you and I weren’t speaking.”
“We were always talking, sweetheart. Just a little communication breakdown.” He put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed.
“What do you think about the floors in here? I talked to a guy about doing reclaimed hardwood, but do you think this is salvageable?” I led him over to the corner where I’d peeled up the carpet.
“That’s the same as upstairs.”
“Would you want the same flooring in your home and office?”
Dad scrubbed the side of his neck. “I don’t see why not. But we’ll have to figure out what the rest of it looks like.”
“I finished painting, so I thought I’d pull up the carpet today.”
“You don’t need to be doing that.”
“I’m pregnant, not helpless.”
“All this old dust can’t be good for you or Gummy.”
“You’re calling the baby Gummy too?” I smiled at my dad. It was really cute hearing him call her or him Gummy.
“Well, I guess. If you don’t mind. How did that come about anyway?”
“No. I don’t mind. I’m so used to it now thanks to Patrick. When he saw the baby on the ultrasound. Said he or she was the size of a gummy bear. And then of course, somehow that stuck.”
“Sounds about right.” He chuckled. I’d missed hearing his laugh. “Now, back to this flooring. The dust—”
“I’ve been wearing a mask.”
“What brings you by, old man?” Holt slapped our father on the back.
“These two wanted to see the place.” He motioned toward the stroller where Blake and Ella were poking at each other.
“Can you help me move this desk out of here?” I wrapped my fingers around one end.
“You’re not lifting anything. I’ll go get one of the guys.”
I grumbled. “It’s not heavy.” I lifted one end to prove my point. So it was a little heavier than I thought.
“Hang on two seconds.”
“You’d let Baker do it.”
“She’s not pregnant.”
“Fine. I’ll move it myself.” I shouldered it toward the door. The desk barely moved.
“I’ll help.” Dad started for the opposite end.
“No.” Holt and I spoke in unison.
“Being old disqualifies me.” He pushed the stroller out to the reception area.
“Dad, you’re not old,” I called.
“Holt said I was.”
