Her Best Friend's Dad

She shifts back and forth, fidgeting beneath his stare. “A little hungry but fine.”

They keep to this banter of small talk until I can’t take the tension anymore. “Okay, you two. Beck, she’s your daughter. You know she’s pregnant. You still love her.” I point to Tasha. “And, you, this is your dad. He still loves you and isn’t mad. He even got you your favorite pizza. Now, hug it out so we can go eat. I’m hungry.”

Epilogue

Beck

I pluck at the sleeve of my tuxedo jacket, wondering if the color is what Lia envisioned when she told the tailor “I want him in midnight blue, not cornflower blue or sapphire, and definitely not navy. Midnight.” She was slightly over two months along at that point, far less miserable than she is now. She had returned the first two fabric samples with a politely worded note for him to try again. If this didn’t meet her expectations…

I guess that’s what happens when you propose to an artist.

She designed her wedding gown down to the tiny flower ribbon things she wanted sewn onto it. As long as Lia is happy with everything, I will be. I am ready to start our forever; the details are minor to me. It seems like the past six months have been nothing but wedding plans, and I’m glad that today means I don’t have to answer another question about which type of fork I like better or what pattern I want on the plates we are renting from the catering company. There are reasons I give a theme to a planning committee and then let them have their way with the parties at work.

We were up until almost midnight—Lia, Tasha, Chris, and me—finishing the party favors Lia wanted to give all the guests. There were homemade bubble wands that curved to make our initials, glass vials of bubble solution, and little fabric bags of flower petals. Lia claimed they were sachets to make everything smell pretty. I’m fairly certain they were originally intended for a different project that she knew we didn’t have time for and turned them into potpourri as a last minute gift.

“How is Lia?” Paul is sitting on the arm of my favorite chair in my study, nervously rubbing his hands on his knees. He has been here since shortly after breakfast time, vacillating between being unsure if he’s ready to walk his daughter down the aisle or if he’s excited to see Lia in her dress. She’s let me see her through all the fittings, wanting my opinion every step of the way, but she wanted it to be a surprise for everyone else. After the rocky start we had thanks to her former step-mother, Lia and I have worked hard at communicating. We talk until we think we’re done talking, then clarify our positions one more time. Usually, our conversations end with us sweaty, sticky, and exhausted from great sex. After being interrupted while outside near the pool, Tasha and Lia developed a series of colored scarves that they’d leave around the house as warnings.

“Lia is not puking, which she’s grateful for,” I answer him. “She is pretty tired and sore, though.” Her bouts of morning sickness and all day sickness subsided as she reached the third trimester, but our little one’s constant movement is keeping Lia up at night. As much as I hate seeing her so miserable, the entire process of the pregnancy amazes me. “I think she got up to pee at least three times last night.” I managed to stay awake through two of them, trying to be supportive.

Paul snorts and tries not to smile. “It’s practice for the sleepless nights to come.” He goes silent as he counts on his fingers. “She has what, three weeks left?”

I nod and fasten the cuff links Lia made me as a wedding gift. They look like miniature versions of the sculpture hanging in my office. The mirrored surfaces are so tiny they could be disco balls in a doll house. I really don’t know how she could capture so many details in such a small form. “The weeks are going to go so quickly. We have our staycation sort of honeymoon with maternity spa specialists coming up to the house daily to give massages and otherwise pamper Lia.” With the pregnancy so far along at this point, Lia’s doctor doesn’t want her traveling outside of the city in case she goes into labor. We planned some day trips around town, but nothing that exhausts her. I know we both need to rest up in the days to come in preparation for the little one’s arrival.