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First, the hospital to meet our newest niece or nephew. I’ll be perfectly honest: despite being one hell of a teacher, I’ve never really given much thought to kids. As in having my own one day. Maren and I fully anticipate Shelby will be knocked up before Season 3 ofHomeMadekicks off. She’s always wanted a family of her own, and everyone knows sheand Cameron would make the best parents. But I wasn’t sure being a country singer, recording albums, and eventually, hopefully, going on tour made for good parenting.
Anyway, that wasbeforeI ever saw Huck hold a baby. Before I caught a glimpse of the happy smile spreading across his lips and heard him sing under his breath, a lullaby he wrote just for brand-new little baby Jasper.
To paraphrase the late, great, ethically iffy Dr. Seuss, my uterus grew three sizes that day.
Or my heart. Whatever. I’m convinced they sprinkle crack cocaine pixie dust in baby hair so everyone who sniffs them will want their own.
Note to self: Make an appointment to have IUD double-checked.
The labor went as smoothly as possible, so the surrogate was able to be discharged after the first twenty-four hours and baby Jasper was ready to leave this afternoon, since they’ve apparently finished monitoring his bilirubin or something else that sounds like a sandwich (Arlo’s words, not mine). So after eating the lunch we smuggled in of cheeseburgers for Mr. and Mr. Bishop and veggie burgers on gluten-free buns for me and Huck, we left them to get one final nap before they take home their baby and presumably never sleep again.
We’re holding hands across the center console of Craig’s Outback when he asks to stop in the studio.
“No appointments,” he reassures me. “We purposely scheduled this month light because we knew Arlo might be called away at any moment.”
“Do you want kids?” I ask suddenly.
Craig lifts a shoulder. “I think so. One day, anyway. Not like… you said you have an IUD, right?”
I squeeze his hand. “Yeah. I do. We’re in no danger at the moment. Just one day? If you’d asked me before…”
Craig nods. “I know. Me too. I thought music was it for me. And then I thought the studio was it for me. And thenyouwere it for me…”
“Your circle keeps getting bigger.”
“Yeah.”
“Mine too.”
We pull into the small alleyway parking lot behind the studio and Craig keys in the security code to let us in. The halls are cool and quiet, mostly dark but lit with small motion-sensored runners along the floor. We get to his office and he opens the door, flipping on the light, and jumps back, swinging wildly when he’s attacked by several floating helium balloons. I pull back his arm, stilling him before he pops one and sets off who knows what other kinds of alarms.
“What the? These must be for Arlo. Everyone knows I hate balloons.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, reading one. “This one says, ‘You did it!,’ which Arlo and Josh did not.”
“Maybe they were trying to be PC. ‘Good job ejaculating in a cup, it worked!’ is a lot to put on a balloon.”
“‘Comeback kid’?”
Craig’s eyes narrow and he pulls on one of the strings, reading the tag attached to a plastic weight.
“‘Congrats on debuting at number ten on the country charts! Love, Annie Mathers.’” Craig’s head slowly raises, shock evident on his face. “What?”
All the blood slips from my face. “What?”
“Holy shit, Lorelai,” he mutters, beating against the balloons and shoving his way to his chair. “Holy shit.” His phone beeps with a notification and mine does, too. And another and another. I swipe the screen and open the first text from Arlo.
ARLO: I know you hate balloons, boss, but it’s hard to say no to Annie Mathers. Congrats, you two! Coolidge’s been in touch, but he knew you needed some space, so give him a call back if you’re done sexing it up all over town.
I snort, tapping out a response in the group chat.
LORELAI: Just need to hit up your soundboard and we should be all set.
Craig laughs next to me, reading over my shoulder. “Serves him right. Remind me to tell you about the time they found out about my poetry account.”
We call up Jefferson and make plans to meet at a nice bar downtown. Despite living close, we’re the last to arrive because hello, celebratory “we debuted at number ten on the country charts” sex.
Yeah, we’ve been number one everywhere else and that’s a big freaking deal, but we knew that. We celebrated that.
