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“I have a few Ideas.”
Swallow, wait to respond before getting another mouthful, you’re a lady after all, Dana.“Let me guess, they all begin with ‘D’.”
“Well, if you’re open to it.”
“Yeah, might as well get our family circus started.”
Drew clears his throat and pulls out his phone. “Okay, here goes.”
“You have a list of names on your phone?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
I resist telling him once again he’s going to be an amazing dad and stuff my face with more bruschetta.
“So, for girls I have Diana–”
“Too much like the princess.”
“Destiny.”
“Too much like the Child.”
“Desdemona.”
“Do I even need to tell you that names form Shakespeare are off the table?”
“Oh, come on! Those would all be so cute. And you could call her ‘Mona’.”
“Too much like–”
“I know what you’re going to say. The Lisa. Fine.” He grumbles to himself. “Then here are some boy names.”
We go back and forth like this, me totally ribbing him for his choices, him trying to convince me that they’re so utterly wonderful I’d be a fool. However, when he gets to Digby, I have to stop him.
“What if we didn’t stick with ‘D’ names, huh? Where would we be with that?”
Drew sighs. “In order to be creative, we need constraints.”
“We’re naming a child here, Drew. Not writing a sonnet.”
He concedes with a shrug and then glances out at the sprawling beach and ocean just beyond the open windows. So handsome in golden hour.
I wish I could meet the woman that made him. The man too. I’d give him a piece of my mind. However, the woman that made him so fine and rare…I think about her every day. “If it’s a girl, we should name her after your mom.”
Drew straightens up the slightest bit. “Seriously?”
“Of course. I think it’s only right. If you’re comfortable with that, that is.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Maybe I upset him. The last thing I want to do on a beautiful day like today is bring up his grief. But then, he smiles. “This is why you’re so special, Dana.”
“Oh, please.” I pat off my lips with my napkin.
“Seriously, you’re the most remarkable woman in the world.”
I look down at the table, smiling through my bashfulness. “You’re being sappy.”
“You’re damn right, I am. You’re the mother of my child. The woman I love. I’ve got a right to be sappy, don’t you think?”
