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I can’t help but laugh as the rest of the guys nod their heads. Thatch’s smile is a mile wide, almost as big as his body is tall, as I flounder through their crash course. “What about what I should do? I’m hearing a lot of don’ts, and they’re great, but it’d be helpful to know what to replace them all with. Right now, it feels like I’m just going to stand there like a human black hole.”
“Okay, okay,” Milo says through a laugh. “Definitely tell her she’s beautiful every day. She’ll reject it, but in the end, she’ll remember.”
“Bring her what she’s craving without being asked. If she drops a hint, take it immediately. The moods are often fleeting,” Kline suggests.
“Deal with any family issues she has for her. But do it without telling her you’re doing it. That’ll just stress her out,” Quince counsels.
“Go to the Lamaze class even if she says she doesn’t want you to. She wants you to. They always want you to,” Milo says sagely.
“When Cassie was pregnant, she really liked when I sent extra bouquets of flowers from my dick.”
The whole room explodes in laughter, and I shake my head and lift a fake thumbs-up. “Not helpful, but great. So glad I know that now.”
“Dote on her any time it’s possible. My wife loved to be doted on. Said it was her right as a pregnant woman,” Kline says, bringing it back to reality.
“Talk about the baby. Tell her what stuff you’re excited about. She’s nervous, and that’ll help her focus on the positive,” Theo chimes in.
On and on, just like before, my friends pile on more advice without judgment. There’s nothing too small or too obvious; they tell me it all. And I eat it up like a starving man at a buffet.
“Let her sleep whenever possible without comment. She’s going to get really tired and probably won’t be sleeping well at night.”
“Go to all the doctor’s appointments. Actively ask when they are.”
“Take her on dates so she stills feel like she’s got her own life going. It’s going to be a shock to suddenly be a mom. Especially if you guys didn’t plan it.”
“Don’t drink or eat lunch meat, or fish with mercury, or sushi. She can’t, and she’s going to be fluffing pissed if you’re doing it. She won’t say she is, but she totally will be.”
“Take pressure off her when you can, but don’t suggest she’s not still capable. They really hate when you imply they’re not capable. Even of reaching their shoes. And trust me, they can’t fucking reach their shoes.”
“Anything else?” I ask as the speed of the suggestions starts to slow down.
“Give her as many hugs as she’ll tolerate, and don’t stop, ever,” Kline says with a soft smile. “She’ll pretend she doesn’t need them, but I guarantee, if you keep it up consistently, eventually you’re going to be the one to comfort her when she needs it most.”
“At the time she needs it most,” Thatch adds, his words surprisingly wise. “You have to find a way to always be the one she turns to in her time of need.”
Always be the one she turns to in her time of need.
The words resonate in my mind and make me think about the night that led to all of this—Rocky pregnant, me moving to California, me becoming a father.
Was I that someone for her five months ago?
The very, very early morning of August 16th, 1:45 a.m.
Harrison
All grown-up and au natural has never looked better.
For the tenth time tonight, I watch with avid interest as Rocky’s tongue scores a path along the rosy palette of her plump bottom lip. She has no idea she’s doing it, I can tell, but I am acutely, embarrassingly aware.
The last time I saw this woman, she wasn’t a woman at all—she wasn’t even really a girl.
She was a sweet kid with big, violet eyes and a douchebag brother.
And now, she’s an adult woman, sitting beside me in rhinestone-adorned sweatpants with gloriously messy, wild hair, sans makeup, and the kind of perfectly full lips that could drive a man insane.
Trust me, I should know. Every time she licks her lips, I grow one step closer to a padded cell and a straitjacket.
Okay, so that’s probably a bit of an exaggeration, but the sentiment is the same—Rocky Weaver is a full-fledged woman with the kind of natural, gorgeous beauty, I am seemingly powerless to resist.
I haven’t even thought about her in twenty-five years, but for some reason, after seeing her tonight, I can’t stop thinking about the funniest memory of her brother Luca and me rolling around on her front lawn like a couple of heathens while she looked on, a bag of Doritos in her hand and a smile on her face.
I never thought about it at the time, but now, rethinking it, I can’t get over the amusing fact that she never once made a move to do anything to stop us.
