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I nodded. “For Nana, if we did go the IV route, we’d probably call him Teddy.”
“For Dad.” Dad nodded slowly. “They would be so damn proud of you and they would love that. They would also tell you to follow your heart and not custom if that wasn’t what you wanted to do.”
He wasn’t wrong. “I think since we’re having twins, then Amelia can by my initial, but bump number two, male or female, needs to have an F name.”
“I am not naming a girl Francesca.” She absolutely steadfastly hated her name.
“Well there are other F names,” I reminded her and she made a face. “Thus, the disagreement on the second name.”
A chuckle left him, but he nodded. “I can see the issue. Why don’t you write your favorite names down for girls and boys on slips of paper, put them in separate bowls, then each of you draw one? You seal them in an envelope for girl and one for boy. Then you open it when you find out.”
Frankie frowned. “Then we decide on a name without deciding.”
“Something like that. But if you only put the names in that you both agree on or that you both love, then you are guaranteed the right name when you draw them.”
She glanced at me and I lifted my shoulders. “If we ultimately don’t like whatever is drawn, we have time to change our minds.”
“True,” she murmured. “We can think about it. We have time.”
We absolutely did. Another twelve to fourteen weeks. I hoped. That was if they went full-term.
“Well, now that we solved that,” Eddie said. “What other problems can I solve for you two? I need all the best grandpa credit I can get.”
CHAPTER 13
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
FRANKIE
“Ow,” I said, with a groan as Ian flattened my foot out. It had cramped while we’d been on stage. Since more and more, I sat while we performed, it hadn’t been that hard to ignore the cramps in my legs and feet.
At least until we were getting ready to walk off stage and he’d taken my hand when I stood up. If he hadn’t been holding onto me, I would have fallen.
“Easy,” he murmured, adding a little more pressure that took me to the point of tears. It hurt so damn good. “You should have said something at the break.”
There was the scold. Not that I didn’t deserve it. “I would have,” I said on a groan. “Oh ow… Ow. Ow. Ow.”
He had magical hands, the agony was survivable only because relief was right there as he worked on my calf then back down to my foot. It was almost like he could tell just how much I could take before he needed to ease back and switch to the other set of muscles.
Maybe he could.
“Frankie.” Aggravation punched up the syllables of my name. “Angel, we have two shows left. We can cancel them and make it up to the people in a few months…”
“No,” I said, shaking my head as I blinked away the tears that kept trying to form. “Really, no, when we’re done, I want to wrap and go home for at least a year or two.”
His expression gentled, as he worked his way higher to my quads. “Then we need to do something about this. The swelling is getting intense and if you sit too still for long, you’re having issues. If you stand you’re having issues. Call Doctor Patterson first thing in the morning?”
He was offering a compromise and I appreciated it. When I tried to sit up, it wasn’t the easiest, but he moved to grip my hands and tugged me upright. Not a single one ever teased me about the need for help. If anything, they were moving to assist before I even thought to ask.
“You’re an amazing husband,” I said. “Have I told you that?”
Ian’s smile gentled and he squeezed my hands once before moving a pillow behind me and going back to work on my legs.
“You may have mentioned it once or twice.” He lifted those stunning blue eyes to meet my gaze, then winked once. “Doesn’t mean I won’t keep a tally of swats for you letting yourself hurt through a whole set.”
It was my turn to cradle his face. The action slowed his massage. As much as I loved him doing that, I needed to comfort him. “I promise, I wasn’t hurting during the show. I didn’t even notice at first. I mean I’m always uncomfortable now. It’s just the lesser discomfort. When I stood up though…”
He frowned, then pressed his forehead to mine. It was comfort and affection. Love and passion. Need and desire. “I hate when you hurt. I hate it more that I can’t make it better.”
