I squeeze her hand, and Warren places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You got this, baby girl,” Warren says.
“I know. It’s just the whole labor thing.”
“Remember, our breathing exercises and the classes this month should help.”
“Oh?” Warren glances from one to the other.
“We’ve been watching videos to prepare.”
“Is he going to be in the room when you’re in labor?” Warren’s voice raises.
“I sure as hell hope so.”
“I’ll be there no matter what, sweetheart.”
&nbs
p; Her shoulders relax, and I kiss the side of her head.
“I just figured Rochelle would be there.”
“I love my best friend, but we both know she gets queasy at the sight of blood. I can’t be worried about her passing out when I’m trying to push out a watermelon.”
“Okay, enough descriptive language.” Warren makes a cutting motion across his neck.
“Big baby,” she mumbles, walking into the kitchen.
“You sit. I’ll serve. It’s your birthday, after all,” I say, pulling out her chair.
“That’s his nice way of saying, ‘you’re super pregnant, get off your feet’.”
“I like this guy already,” Warren says.
“Good, ’cause I plan to be around.” We lock gazes, and he gives a slight nod of respect.
Once Faye is seated, I set the tossed salad and garlic bread on the table before returning for the lasagna.
Warren inhales deeply. “It smells amazing.”
“Mmm-hmm. When’s the last time you had a home-cooked meal?” Faye points her fork at him.
“Last week,” he answers.
“Oh?”
“Uh, yeah.” He smiles.
“Why do I get the feeling this was not at Mom’s house?” She continues to prod him as he dishes up some salad.
“Well, it was just Riley and me.”
“From the pet store? I freaking knew it!” Faye dances in her chair
“What? Friends can’t eat together?” Warren asks lamely.
“The looks you two exchanged were not of the ‘let’s be friends’ variety. The two were mooning over each other under the pretense of picking out Monty.”
“What? You love my nephew,” Warren protests.