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“What the fluff?” Thatch booms.
“You’re what?” Trent questions with wide, shocked eyes.
“What the hell?” Wes asks, glancing around the room in surprise.
“Behind my back?” Cap says dramatically, and besides stoic, rational Kline, the rest of the guys—Quincy, Milo, and Theo—just kind of sit there, looking at me like I’m not actually speaking English anymore.
“Explain yourself, motherfluffer,” Thatch demands, and Kline gives him a look that says shut the hell up, but the big giant is beyond containing. “You’re leaving me to go to California, and you’re going to be a father? What the fluffing fluff is fluffing fluff happening?”
Oh boy.
“Yes, I’m going to be a dad, but I can’t tell you all the details right now,” I answer, keeping my voice steady, and Cap is the first one to dive into the deep end of my vague pool.
“You can’t tell your best fucking friends in the whole world the details? What the fuck, Harry?”
“Yeah, what the fluff?” Thatch chimes in again.
“Guys, I get it and I’m sorry, but I’m just not ready to fully talk about it yet,” I respond, hoping some rational part of them will understand. “But the mother lives in California, and I’m determined to be a part of my kid’s life, unplanned or not. My dad did one thing right and that was being around. I don’t know a hell of a lot about being a dad, but I figure I’ll start there and build on the rest as I go.”
The room turns eerily silent, the weight of my words powerful enough to silence even Thatch and Cap.
Jesus. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t think they’d take it this hard. You’d think I’m literally going to be gone forever with the way Thatch is staring back at me with big, sad puppy-dog eyes.
“Look, it’s not like you’re never going to see me again,” I say, trying to add some goddamn levity to the situation before Thatch starts to cry or something. “I’m going to be around. I’ll still be working bicoastally with HawCom. I’ll still come to poker nights when I can. I just won’t be able to be here all the time.”
Thankfully, Kline steps up to take the wheel.
“You’re right, Harrison. And there’s no doubt, you’re doing the right thing,” he comforts before continuing on with some gentle advice. “And it’s going to be hard. I want to be honest with you. Hell, all of us with kids can be honest with you.”
The other guys nod.
“Pregnancy is a miracle. It’s beautiful and amazing and, unfortunately, a big motherfucking roller coaster.”
Thatch laughs with a boom. “A-men, Klinehole.”
“There are going to be a ton of hormonal bumps in the road. Be steadfast in your support, no matter how crazy it might seem. It’ll reward you in the end,” Kline finishes.
And, one by one, the rest of the guys join in with their tales from the front lines. It’s rapid-fire and chaotic, and to be honest, I’m not even sure I can tell who’s telling me what.
“Get her anything she wants, anytime she wants it.”
“Don’t hog the bed.”
“Turn out the lights when she tells you to, but don’t be surprised when she changes her mind and yells at you for it being dark.”
“Don’t ask questions when she says she has to go to the bathroom again. She’s going to have to go a lot. Just roll with it.”
“If she asks you to rub her feet, rub them. Don’t tickle, no matter how tempting it may be.”
“Do not ever suggest she wear a different outfit, no matter the occasion. She wants to wear shorts in December? Totally reasonable. She wants to wear a bathing suit to dinner, let her do it.”
“If she asks you to tell her how big she’s getting, don’t fucking do it. If you must, say the baby is getting big. But stay far, far away from the word big altogether.”
“If she says things are happening that are not actually possible with the human anatomy, ignore them. Go along with them. She will rage if you do not.”
“Don’t, under any circumstances, allow her to have a strawberry milk shake while she’s still getting sick. She will blame you for the rest of time for the repercussions, even if you were just doing as she asked.”
“Don’t ask questions at the doctor’s appointments. They get really annoyed. But always come prepared with a list of questions, should they change their mind. This is very important.”
My head spins like a toy top, and my heart pounds so hard it signals my brain to laugh, just to ensure I’ll get enough oxygen. Eyes soften around the room in support as I stutter my way through my truth. “Guys…this is a little…overwhelming.”
“Oh, that’s a good one,” Quince says with a snap of his fingers. “Don’t ever say you’re overwhelmed. Actually, don’t mention your own feelings at all. She’s going through all the same things and physically carrying a baby. You’ll be trumped every time.”
