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There’s a chorus of affirmations from the others and more questions thrown at me.
“Will you find out the gender of the baby tomorrow?” Jenna asks.
“What do you want… a boy or a girl?” This from Stevie.
Sophie nudges me with her elbow. “How excited is Bain?”
I go around the table nodding at each woman who asked the question. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure. I’m not sure.”
Brienne laughs. “You’ll figure it out.”
“They did say when I made the appointment that we’d be able to see the little niblet. The nurse said they’ll most likely use a transvaginal ultrasound wand since I’m pretty early.”
Stevie winces.
“Just think of it like a sex toy,” Tillie says.
Laughing, I hold my taco in front of my mouth, indicating I want to eat. But not before I say, “I’m sure Bain’s going to have loads of jokes for the doctor tomorrow when he uses it on me.”
“You better have Bain start minding his tongue,” Danica warns with a grin. “Babies start hearing sounds from the outside world at eighteen weeks.”
I roll my eyes. “Trying to get him to stop dirty talk would be like trying to stop the flow of water over the edge of a cliff.”
Jenna sighs. “I love it when Gage talks dirty.”
All of us go silent, our gazes snapping to her with mouths open. Gage is like the nicest, most upstanding man in the world. He’s the epitome of a cinnamon roll guy. I’m not sure any of us have even heard him cuss before.
“He dirty talks?” Stevie asks with wide eyes.
Jenna blushes and ducks her head. “Forget I said that.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Brienne wags her finger. “Spill the details.”
While we eat delicious food, we share laughs, give unsolicited advice and poke fun at one another. I’m not sure how I got to be so lucky to land in the midst of these women, but they’re my tribe.
“Oh, I forgot,” Jenna exclaims and then moves over to a large black bag sitting by the wall. “I got something for all of us.”
We all crane our necks as she pulls out individual clear bags that hold some type of white material inside. Our names are written on the front with Sharpie and she hands them out.
No one waits, opening the gifts and extracting what appears to be a long-sleeve T-shirt. Harlow is the first to get hers fully opened, followed by Ava, and they start howling.
I pull mine out and see a logo in purple and gray on the front breast pocket. It reads, “Titan Queens.”
“Turn it around,” one of the ladies says, and I do, not able to control the laugh that pops out of my mouth.
Across the back, it reads, “The real power behind the Titans.”
“I fucking love it,” Brienne says.
I cut my eyes to her before rolling them. “Yeah, well, everyone knows you are really the power behind all the Titans, so technically you don’t need this T-shirt. But I love it.”
Without waiting, I undo my puffer vest and pull my turtleneck off, hoping we’re far enough back from the edge of the suite balcony that no one can see us.
It fits perfectly and I twirl for everyone to admire.
“Let’s all wear them to Mario’s after the game,” Sophie says.
We’d all decided to make it a full night out and we’re going to meet the guys there—provided we win.
