“Take your daughter. I want chicken,” I laughed, trading him the sleeping baby for the plate of food. Katie nabbed a biscuit and took a bite.
“These are fantastic,” she said.
Soon a few more people sat down to fortify themselves with chicken, an unexpected second course after the burgers and hot dogs a couple hours ago. It was so nice just relaxing and catching up with everyone. I’d only been back to work at the library for about six weeks so I was still catching up on the news around town. We were planning a long weekend in Chicago over Labor Day, and I was trying to convince Greg and Katie to bring Donovan back in the fall so the cousins could go to their first pumpkin patch together.
“Imagine how cute they’ll be in little knit hats riding in a wagon!” I said. “You know we have to make the grandparents a calendar of the babies for Christmas.”
“That sounds amazing,” Katie agreed. “As long as I can get a pumpkin spice latte down here in the South, I’ll be happy.”
“It’ll still be sweating hot, but we’ll put the flannel shirts and sock hats on the babies for pictures and then strip them down to onesies,” I laughed.
After a diaper blowout that required a trip to the dumpster by the courthouse, I caught myself yawning. It wasn’t even fireworks time yet, but this mama was wiped out. I turned to Drew, who was cradling Brielle as if she hadn’t just done the yuckiest smelling thing imaginable.
“Would you be upset if we left early?”
“Anything you want,” he said with a smile. “Go say bye to Nic and Trixie. I’ll get Brie’s stuff packed up.”
As soon as I started toward Nic, she turned and grabbed me. “I want to take my goddaughter home tonight,” she said.
“Are you sure? You have a toddler. Your hands are full,” I said. “Besides, I’m already yawning.”
“Well, have an iced coffee and wake yourself up. We’re about to take the pooper scooper home for a bath. I told his dad not to let him anywhere near the geese because geese are assholes, but no. He didn’t listen and then the child grabs goose poop in his hand. I think I used half a pack of wipes and it still grosses me out. So, yes, I’m sure. I want to soak up Brie’s sweet, baby powder smell and try to forget what happened with the goose. Go out with Drew. Have fun. Wear a regular bra instead of a nursing one.”
“But they’re so comfy,” I whined a little.
“I know, but they droop. Strap those puppies back up and go have some fun. Consider me your fairy godmother. Give me the baby, put on a bra, and go wild.”
“They should totally put that line in Cinderella. And if they could work in the part about goose poop that would improve the movie, too. Maybe in a song.”
“Right. Give me my goddaughter. I’ll send you a pic when she’s sleeping angelically, and Cooper is climbing across the couch pretending to be the Hulk.”
“I love you,” I said. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“We won’t stay out late.”
“Take your time. I want to rock her and savor the cuddly wee baby stage. You can pick her up in the morning.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do I have to tell you the poop story again? I will do it. I’ll use sound effects,” she threatened and I laughed.
I hurried over to Drew and told him. He grinned.
“Did you have something to do with her offer?” I asked suspiciously. He feigned innocence and I rolled my eyes. “Fine, we’re going home. I’ve been instructed to put on real clothes, not mom ones.”
“Whatever you say, Chel,” he said.
We drove the short distance home. I put on makeup, a bra with an underwire, a cute sundress that was just a little too tight post-baby and let my hair down. Not too bad for a sleep-deprived librarian, I thought when I studied my reflection as I put on red lipstick.
When I came out of the bathroom, Drew was wearing a shirt and tie.
“Are we going to the bank for an after-hours loan?” I teased. “You never dress up.”
“Maybe I like dressing up for the woman I love. Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to take this cold bottle of champagne up on the roof and watch the fireworks for starters,” he said.
Drew was holding a chilled bottle of Moet and two glasses. I followed him up the stairs and up through the attic, out on to the pretty railed widow’s walk on top of the house. There, just beneath the trees, we could see the starry clear night perfectly. He spread a blanket and we sat down.
“Hey, this is romantic and I didn’t even have to wear shoes,” I said.
“I know how to treat a lady,” he said with a kiss on my forehead. “You are so beautiful. Every night, but especially tonight. Have I told you how happy I am with you? How grateful I am for the second chance you gave us and for our beautiful daughter?”