“Gotta have the games,” Casey says, collapsing on the couch. Hannah and Chloe fall down beside her and I stay where I am in the chair. “You can get me back one day when you throw my baby shower.”
“Seriously, though,” I say. “Thank you.”
There was a time where I thought my grief might push my friends away. I tried to push them away myself, but they wouldn’t let me. They’ve always seen through my bullshit.
“That’s what friends are for.” Casey shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Well—” she sighs, standing “—we better go.”
I glance at the time. I hadn’t realized it was getting so late. It’ll be time for dinner soon.
I hug each of them and follow them to the door. “I’ll see you guys soon,” I say, leaning against the doorjamb. “Let’s do lunch next week.”
“Sure, how about Wednesday?” Casey asks.
“That’s good for me.” Hannah shrugs, starting down the steps.
Chloe checks her phone. “Yeah, me too.”
“Mhm,” I hum. “I’m free.”
“See you guys then,” Casey says.
I watch her and Chloe start down the stairs before I close the door.
I still hold the paper in my hand and walk through the apartment, over to my desk, so I can grab a piece of tape. I then go into the nursery and over to the lone piece of furniture—a dresser.
I hold the piece of paper against the wall and then press the tape over it.
I smile. “Ava.”
“Is this the last of it?” Ryder asks, grabbing the knife off the floor to open the box that holds the crib.
“Yes,” I say, looking around the room.
In a short amount of time, he’s already assembled the stroller, car seat, and changing table. While he’d done that I’d been busy in the kitchen…baking. But he didn’t know that. I wanted it to be a surprise.
“You waited until the last minute, didn’t you?” He chuckles, pulling the pieces out of the box. The paper with the directions goes fluttering to the ground and I pick it up, setting it on the dresser.
&nb
sp; I shrug. “With the move it didn’t make sense to start getting things until now.”
He grunts, pulling out one of the side panels. “Makes sense.”
“I’ll be right back,” I say, when I hear the timer ding.
I run out into the kitchen and pull the homemade cinnamon rolls from the oven. I haven’t made them in a long time, and they take a while to make, but I know it’ll be worth it. I lay them out to cool so I can frost them in a bit with the homemade cream cheese frosting. Ryder was right, the baking helped. It quieted my mind and I needed all the quieting I could get.
When the cinnamon rolls are cooled enough I slather them in icing and put two on a plate.
I pad into the nursery and find that Ryder already has half of the crib together.
“You’re fast,” I say, sitting down on the floor beside him. He’s so focused on tightening the side panel to the headboard that he doesn’t notice the cinnamon rolls. “I made you something.”
That gets his attention. He looks away and sees the plate in my hands. “You made these?” He grins, his eyes flickering from the cinnamon rolls to my face.
“I did,” I say proudly. I haven’t made them in so long that I was worried I would totally butcher them, but they turned out pretty good.
He picks one up and takes a big bite before setting it back on the plate. Icing is smeared all over his perfect mouth.