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“Are you okay?”
I wave him off. “It’s just a headache. I’ll be fine.”
His thumbs press into the space at the base of my skull, eliciting a groan. “Should I find you some Tylenol?”
“That might be good.”
He presses a gentle kiss to my hair that both soothes and confuses me before he leaves on his mission. Everything feels extra bright when I open my eyes. I wish I had a place to lie down, even for a few minutes. That secret coat room sounds even more exciting. Suddenly, Cami appears at my side with a fresh bottle of cold water. She must have seen me struggling.
“What is it?”
I take the bottle and savor the icy sip. Just the touch of coolness on my upper lip provides relief. “A headache. Nathan’s grabbing me a Tylenol.”
“Drink more water until he gets back. You could be dehydrated.”
“Is that medical advice?” I tease but tilt the bottle back to do as she says.
She sets her hands on her hips. “No, it’s advice from one mother to another.”
“Aunt K, are you ready for the cake?” Cami’s fourteen-year-old daughter, Evelyn, interrupts the conversation. Cami smiles sweetly at her daughter and strokes her hair.
The sight of the two of them plucks my heartstrings. For the first time since I found out about the pregnancy, I allow myself to envision a miniature version of myself like the mother-daughter duo before me.
“This one has been bouncing off the walls wanting to know what you’re having. She’s excited to know if she’ll be babysitting a boy cousin or a girl cousin.”
“Aw, that’s sweet.” I force a genuine smile through the pain. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Help me up.” Holding out both hands, I wait until Evelyn grabs on and fake a struggle to get out of my seat. She breaks into giggles. The sweet sound eases some of the tension in my head.
Cami’s smile is worried, but I wave her off and follow her daughter to the cake table. Nathan meets me there with my pain relief. I pop the pills with an audience and brace myself for photo flashes. The two of us stand side by side, and he secretly rubs soothing circles on my lower back as we pose this way and that for pictures. After more shots than necessary, we pick up the knife and pose a bit more in an exaggeratedly slow cut of the three-tiered cake before us. I need to thank Cami later for not adding some cheesy slogan lettering or theme to the ostentatious mountain of sugar. Also, I should give her crap for making such a big deal out of whether my kid has a penis or a vagina.
Just as we reverse the knife to pull out the slice, a loud shriek comes from my side, followed by several gasps and a wet slap.
I look down to find an adorable little sandy-haired boy. A fistful of cake fills his hand and blue frosting smears across his chubby cheeks.
“Hello, you.” I crouch down and scoop up the toddler, hook him on my hip and stand back up, so his rightful owner can claim him. The little bundle shrieks again and happily smacks his frosting covered palm against my cheek, eliciting from me a bubbly laugh.
“Is that so?” I make a grab for his hand and pretend I’m going to eat the cake off it. He squeals again and points down at the cake and back to my mouth.
“For me?”
“Yummy!” He thrusts both hands straight in the air, and the guests witnessing our little show laughs.
Headache long forgotten by this one’s cuteness, I reach down and dig my fingers into the cake right next to where he did and pull out my own handful of crumbles and frosting. Giving the little guy big eyes and a goofy face, I shove it in my mouth much the same way he had.
“Yummy!” he cries again and pats my messy face, adding his own fistful of frosting to my cheeks.
I’d forgotten all about Nathan at my side until he leans down to my ear. “He belongs to Rhett. He must have wandered off.”
The news has me surveying the room. “I don’t remember seeing Rhett.” I look over my shoulder at Nathan, and his eyes nearly bug out of his head.
“Good god, you’re a mess.” He chuckles and holds out a napkin.
My idea is infinitely better. I smear the remainder of my cake across his lips and cackle wickedly at the mock outrage on his face. While I’m busy laughing at how ridiculous he looks, he hooks me around the neck and brings me in for a messy, delicious, cake-covered kiss. His tongue pushes in my mouth, tasting of vanilla and buttercream. He cuts it short and tries to pull away after a few velvety strokes, but I chase his tongue back into his mouth with my own. It’s not until the whoops and hollers hit my ears that I remember the
room full of our family and friends. The same family and friends who we’ve assured over and over again that we are not in a relationship with one another.
I mean, I have the belly as evidence that Nathan and I have kissed before, but we shouldn’t provide a public demonstration.
Fu-crap.
