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“To see if the cervix has begun dilating to prepare for birth,” Mom informs me.
I sink into my chair, wishing this part would go away.
“How do they check?”
“Well,” Mom begins with, offering a warm smile. “They check manually.”
“Manually?” I repeat, raising my voice. “With a hand?”
“Not a hand, just fingers,” she reassures me.
“Oh, God. This is all going to hurt.”
“I won’t lie. It’s not exactly pleasant.”
I let out a groan. “How did you do this four times? This pregnancy is exhausting.”
Mom forces a smile, but something behind it seems off. “Because once you hold the baby in your arms, you forget just how exhausting and painful it all was.”
Beside her, Dad places his hand on hers as if to comfort her. Something passes between them, but I let it go, not wanting to upset her.
“Mom? Will you be there in the delivery room with me?”
“Of course, Alexa,” she reassures me.
“Sorry, Dad. It would be kinda weird if you saw the kid flying out of my see you next Tuesday.”
Dad presses his lips tightly shut, closing his eyes briefly.
“Thank you, Alexandra, for the euphemism.”
“You’re welcome,” I quip. “So, about this baby shower Ava is throwing. Do I have to go?”
Mom laughs. “If you don’t, she will hunt you down and drag you anyway. Prepare to be spoiled, Alexa.”
Pregnancy is exhausting, and so are baby showers. So much for it being low-key. Ava invited every woman I know, so it’s safe to say the cat isreallyout of the bag now. The only thing I insisted on is no pics uploaded onto socials. It’s one thing for my family and our friends to know, another for Hunter Cash.
And since I’ve moved back here, the fear of running into him never leaves me. That’s if he still lives here in Los Angeles. I assume so, but he is expecting a family, so who knows?
“Ava, what part of this is low-key? There’s a giant swan on the patio.”
“It’s not a swan. It’s a stork.”
“Okay, I don’t think a giant stork screams low-key.”
Millie joins us at the table, where I have picked up way too much food. She places her hand on my belly and rubs it softly. Uh-oh, I’m not surprised if she’s pregnant now or thinking about having another one. I would have thought three boys and abustling career were enough on her plate, but then I remember Mom and Dad. They made it work somehow.
“I think it’s a boy.”
“Really?” Ava questions her. “I think, girl. What do you think?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. How am I supposed to tell?”
“The shape,” Aunt Adriana intervenes. “Right now, I think you’re carrying like it’s a girl.”
“Were you like this with Willow?”
“According to Charlie, I was. She’s the queen of carrying girls.”
