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I laugh. “Me too. Help me to the bedroom, I want to get ready because we need to leave soon.”
Hunter holds tightly to me as we make our way to the guest room. I want to brush my teeth, and change. We need to hurry.
I gasp as another pain hits. This one is really, really big. “Oh! My water!”
Hunter’s brow breaks out in a sweat. “Come on, babe. We need to go.”
I start to protest, then another wave of pain hits. “I think you better call someone because…”
He starts yelling, “Sheila!”
I laugh, “No! I mean like an ambulance. Of course calling Sheila is good too. She might know—”
I gasp and hang onto the edge of the bed. “I’m glad policemen know how to deliver a baby because I think he’s coming…”
“Now?!?”
“Right now.”
Marcus carries the stack of dishes to the kitchen and does a long slide in his sock feet back to the table. Everyone is talking at once.
“Alright, people.… you’re going to wake the baby.”
The whole family is gathered round the kitchen table. Tonight’s the night we pick the baby’s name.
Marcus has been throwing names around all day. He laughs as he scratches another name on a slip of paper. “I’m just full of good ideas.”
Sheila leans over and looks at his suggestion. She grins. “That’s inventive. Isn’t that the green stuff they serve with sushi?”
Hunter laughs so loud the baby jumps. Thankfully the little one settles right back down against his father’s chest.
I eye Marcus, “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
It only takes a minute to write down my favorites and put them in the pile. Hunter shifts the baby and his muscles flex as he gets the little bundle resettled to his other arm so he can write too.
When we finish, there are at least a dozen names. Half of which I expect will get promptly removed from the list.
I’m pretty sure I already know the name we’ll pick. Hunter and I have spent many late nights curled up in bed talking about this. But I’m intrigued to see if something else comes up.
When the ideas are exhausted, Hunter spreads them out. “Okay, food items are being eliminated.” He pushes aside a handful of Marcus’s silly ideas.
Marcus groans like the thirteen-year-old he is. “Come on. Wasabi is a great name.”
I look across the papers. Sheila points. “I vote for this one.” Hunter slides it to the side.
I reach for my favorite. “And I vote for this one.”
Marcus looks over the names. “I like those too.
“Matthew Ryan Roman.” Hunter’s voice is thick as he tries out the combination.
I trace my fingers over the soft curls on our son’s head. “It’s beautiful. Just like him.”
Hunter asks, “Do we have a winner?”
Everyone is smiling.
“That’s a yes, then. That was easy.” He lifts the baby to his lips, kisses him softly on the forehead. He whispers, “Matthew Ryan.”
