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“Why?”
“I don’t know, I just had a feeling.”
“Do you want to find out what we’re having?”
He mulled this over for a minute. It could be done by a blood test this early, or we could find out during my twenty-week scan.
“What if it were a surprise. How would feel about that?” he asked after a moment.
“I think that would be… awesome.”
“Awesome.” He chuckled.
“I think you just want to keep calling this baby Kid, don’t you?”
He shrugged, but whatever he was going to say next was cut off by the nurse walking in with the discharge.
And just like that, we were sent home.
Pete didn’t drive home right away. We stopped at the McDonald’s outside of town for a milkshake before he took me back to the apartment. I finished it in record time, tossing it in the dumpster outside of the bar before following him up the stairs.
“I think the baby’s name night be milkshake,” he teased, holding the door open for me as I slipped inside.
“What I really want is a double americano,” I mused. I could always smell the espresso. “When I have this baby, I’m going to drink so much coffee.”
“I’ll buy it for you.” He smiled.
I turned to the living room, set on crawling back onto the couch to spend the rest of the night awake, but then I paused and turned back to him.
“I know you haven’t been sleeping,” he said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “You need to try, okay? Please—”
“I will,” I replied, giving him a soft smile.
He extended his hand and led me into the bedroom. We changed out of our clothes and got into bed.
The excitement and stress of the night had worn me down, and within minutes I felt sleep creeping up my legs and along my arms. Pete rolled over, spooning me, his body flush against mine.
His warmth crept into my bones and settled that part of me that wouldn’t rest.
“I love you,” he whispered into my neck.
“I love you, too.” I smiled, closing my eyes.
And sleep found me, finally, stealing me away from the world until well into the afternoon the next day.
When I finally peeled myself out of bed and showered, I walked out into the kitchen expecting to be wholly and utterly alone.
But Grant and George were in the kitchen, and Pete was pouring them fresh coffee.
“What’s going on?” I asked, unease settling in the pit of my stomach as a fourth man came into view.
Dego.
Well, this wasn’t good. Not at all.
“Did something happen?” I asked, walking into the room expecting the worst.
“They’re just checking in on us,” Pete said with one of his soft, rare smiles he didn’t show anyone but me.
