“Jennifer, when they’re paying the doctor bills and buying diapers, they can have a say in what we decide.”
“Dibs on buying diapers,” Buzz shouts, rather loudly for such a small room. He immediately gets shushed by half the people in it. “Sorry.”
“Does this hospital have security officers?” I wonder out loud as the wand thingy moves across my stomach.
“Yeah, two of them.” Buzz laughs. “Robbie and Kris—we gave them both autographs at the door and tickets to the season opener.”
Mateo looks up at him, surprise on his face. “You carry around tickets to the season opener?”
“Er, no—he’s going to email me his address and I’m going to send them.”
My baby’s father nods. “Ah. Smart.”
Jennifer clears her throat as a warning, and Mrs. Espinoza loudly sniffs her disapproval of the direction the conversation is taking.
The whole thing has gotten so far off track it will be a miracle if anyone notices the baby sprouting two heads and little devil horns up on the ultrasound screen.
“Guys, time and place. Time. And. Place.” Glory gets the room back on track—sort of.
“So that doesn’t answer the question of if we want to know the sex of our baby or not,” Buzz whisper-talks into the dim room.
“Mateo and I will discuss it ALONE once Jennifer kindly clears the room. This is ridiculous.”
And so typical of a Wallace gathering.
It cannot and never will be normal.
What is normal anyway?
Boring, that’s what.
Jennifer shoots the group a silencing look. “Give me a few more minutes of quiet, guys, and then we’ll have you wait outside.”
“Hey, I paid good money for these seats,” Tripp grumbles.
“You paid no money for these seats. I’m the one who told Robbie and Kris they could have tickets to the game.”
Tripp scoffs. “You’re not paying for those either, moron. You’ll have your manager send them over—get real.”
“So? They’re still not free. Someone’s gotta pay for those.” He glances around the room at his captive audience. “I’ll pay for those tickets in home runs, sucker. BOOM goes the dynamite.”
He makes a fist then makes it explode, making half the room laugh.
Even Mrs. Espinoza can’t keep the giggle out of her scowl.
“Dammit, Buzz!” I curse. “Shoot, sorry,” I mutter, remembering myself and the women in the room—the ones just getting to know me. The last thing Mrs. Espinoza needs to know is that I occasionally have the mouth of a truck driver.
In my defense, I work in a male-dominated industry and half the dudes are sexist pigs who underestimate me on every level. I have to level the playing field somehow, and my vocabulary is a great place to start.
I grimace, staring back at the tiny monitor, at my baby, whose uncles are completely stealing the show here. Damn them, can’t they shut up for three seconds?
“That’s definitely a wiener,” Gloria mutters.
“Mmm, are you sure about that?” Jennifer interjects, moving the wand here and there, the gel sticking to my belly. “Lots of teeny tiny baby parts.”
She hums, lips sealed.
Moves the wand around some more. Then, satisfied, she sets it aside and straightens to glance around the crowded room.
“Okay everyone, I’m going to need you to quietly exit and quietly wait in the lobby.” She pauses. “Quietly.”
“Gotcha.” Mateo’s sisters link arms and grab their mother.
Mrs. Espinoza leans down and kisses me on the forehead, then her son on the top of the head.
A sweet moment I store away, grateful she was here today.
Everyone shuffles out, winter jackets in hand.
I hear them meandering down the hall, my brothers’ loud whispers still too damn loud and not at all quiet as they’ve been told repeatedly, but it makes me smile regardless.
My brothers.
I lay a hand on my stomach.
Maybe, baby, you’ll have a brother like that one day. Or maybe you’ll be the brother.
Two boys and one girl.
I could live with that for the rest of my life.
Just imagine…
I turn my head toward Mateo.
He kisses me on the lips, something he hasn’t done much of—certainly never when my brothers are around, those heathens.
I sigh, content.
Twenty-One
Mateo
“I am never doing that again.” I’m stretched out beside True on my bed that night after our appointment, just…exhausted. “Ever.”
I never realized how damn tiring the Wallaces are, and I’ve only spent time with the three of them.
It’s way worse than seven Espinoza siblings by far.
Buzz is like four people wrapped into one childish, ridiculous, loud man-child.
“We are never doing that again,” True agrees. “I can’t believe we let it happen to begin with.” She’s lying on her side, looking like she belongs on my bed, in my condo. “My brothers are so embarrassing.”
“My sisters didn’t seem to think so. God, I’ve never heard Rosaria laugh so loud—she sounded like a hyena.”
Frightening, really.
“I’m glad your mom was able to come today even if it was crazy in that room. Poor Jennifer.”
I groan. “Don’t go Poor Jennifer-ing Jennifer—she knew what she was getting herself into when she agreed to let them in that room. Buzz was making farting noises with his armpit in the lobby when she came to collect us—none of his behavior came as a surprise.”