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“He’d be the coolest kid in school.”
“No.” I put my foot down.
The argument continues on for days, and even after my parents, Gemma, and Melissa arrive, they too end up leaving without knowing the baby’s name.
The nurses are amused that six days in, Baby Boy Cooper is still nameless, which prompts another argument. I want the baby to be Malone, and Haden, of course, argues for it to be Cooper.
“The baby will be with me all the time. I don’t want people calling me Mrs. Cooper.”
“Well, I don’t want people calling me Mr. Malone.”
I growl in frustration. How can someone so good-looking be so damn stubborn?
He takes the baby from my arms and sits in the armchair beside me. “I’ve got a name.” He smiles, hopeful.
I roll my eyes again at this back and forth debate. “Clark Kent?”
“No, this is… it’s my dad’s name.”
“Your dad?” I raise my eyebrows at him.
I have learned one thing about Haden—he doesn’t like to talk too much about his dad. It’s a sensitive subject and one which I never pushed. When he does talk about him, I simply listen. He admires him so much and only ever speaks fondly about him. I get it. He misses his dad terribly, and it was so tragic to have lost him that way.
“Masen.”
I stare at our little boy’s face as he’s nestled in Haden’s arms. I say it out loud, and the moment I do, I know it’s our baby’s name. Everything about it fits perfectly from the way it rolls off Haden’s tongue when he says it to the look on his face when he calls him that for that first time.
“Masen. I like that. Masen Malone Cooper,” I agree.
And just like that, our beautiful baby boy has a name. It’s the only thing we have ever agreed on, but that doesn’t matter.
It’s the most important decision, and for once, we’ve made it together.
“Your phone has been beeping like fifty million times,” I tell him.
Haden fell asleep on the lounge chair midway through his routine visit with me. Honestly, he looks completely worn out. From what Vicky told me, he has been returning to the office every night to wrap up all the work I didn’t get a chance to hand over and to finalize details on Fallen Baby before it goes to print.
“Huh, what?” Dazed, he removes his glasses and rubs his eyes.
“Your phone,” I speak slowly. “It beeped a million times.”
He pulls it out and looks at the screen, then immediately places it back in his pocket.
I fix my blanket and find the courage to ask the question that’s been eating at me.
“So, Eloise. Is there a reason she hasn’t visited the baby yet?”
He turns to face me. “She sent you flowers.”
“I know. I’m asking why she hasn’t visited because according to her, you two are getting married this coming weekend.”
He diverts his attention back to his phone, removing it again from his pocket. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and I’m left wondering what the hell happened. The last thing I want is another argument, and just as I’m about to drop it altogether, he says, “The wedding has been postponed for another month. She wasn’t sure we should go ahead with it yet, given the added stress right now.”
“What stress? You’re not lying in a hospital bed with stitches,” I remind him.
“I mean for her.”
“Right. It’s always about Eloise,” I mumble, resenting him for thinking
