“Wow.”
“Trev, Rex, and I are gonna host a paint party this weekend. I’ll supply the paint and equipment, the beer and pizza, and we’ll have the place painted in a day. I got a dozen people coming.”
“Really?”
I chuckled. “I’ve been a part of lots of them. It’s my turn to collect. I just need you to pick some colors.”
Excitement filled her eyes. “I can do that.”
“If possible, I want to move us in in two weeks. We should be settled before Nuggetman shows up.”
She flung her arms around my neck, holding me tight. “I love it. I love you.”
I held her close. “I love you, Lottie.”
She eased back and cupped my face. “Thank you.”
I smiled. “Welcome home, baby.”A week later, Lottie walked around the house, frowning. I followed her, unsure about her mood. Had we painted the rooms the wrong color? I had double-checked before we started, and I was certain we had done it right. I hadn’t let her in the house until I was sure the fumes had faded. She’d been excited to come here today but had been withdrawn when she had woken up, rubbing her back and complaining about her sore feet. She seemed tense on the ride over, Brianna coming with us to see the house. Even she noticed Lottie’s odd mood and was subdued herself.
“You don’t like it, sweetheart?”
“It’s perfect.”
I exchanged a glance with Brianna, both of us confused. Lottie waddled slowly to the wingback, and I hurried behind her to help her get settled. She grimaced as she sat, and I kneeled beside her. “Nugget kicking hard?”
She nodded, looking distracted.
“Baby, what is it?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired. The house looks perfect.” She smiled, but the effort didn’t reach her eyes. They were still dim. She fidgeted a little, then settled, her hand resting on top of the rounded swell of her tummy. I noticed her grimace again and decided she needed to go home and rest.
“Is the idea of the move bothering you? I swear, you have to do nothing. You and Brianna are going for a spa day, and when you get here, everything will be done.”
We’d already brought over the nursery items. I’d spent the last two days putting the crib and changing table together. Today, I’d carried in the rocking chair. We were well ahead of the game.
Suddenly, she gasped, and tears ran down her face. Shocked, I cupped her cheeks. “Lottie, baby, talk to me.”
She grabbed her stomach, pain filling her eyes. “Nugget.”
“What? What’s wrong with Nugget?” I laid my hands over hers, gazing down in panic.
Brianna laughed. “Uh oh.”
Then I saw it. Lottie’s water had broken, seeping into the chair, the material becoming darker.
“He’s coming?” I asked, standing. “He’s early. Dr. Roberts said usually first babies are late!”
“Not this one,” Brianna chortled. “I’ll get the car.”
I grabbed my phone.
“What are you doing?” Lottie asked, her eyes wide with fear.
“Calling your mother. She’ll know what to do.”
Lottie groaned. “Just get me to the hospital.” She grabbed my arm. “Fast.”
“Jo-Jo,” I spoke into the phone fast when she answered. “It’s time. Meet us at the hospital. I need Lottie’s bag.” I hung up, not giving her a chance to talk. Bending, I scooped Lottie into my arms.
“I’m getting you wet,” she protested.
“I don’t care, woman. My son is coming!”
She gripped my neck as another contraction hit her. “Oh god, he’s coming soon.”
I ran.I stared down at my son’s face, transfixed. I had barely put him down since they’d placed him in my arms. Red-faced and screaming, he had settled quickly, making little snuffling noises and burrowing close. He had a head full of dark hair and blue eyes like his mother. Lottie told me all babies had blue eyes when they were born and she hoped they’d change to look like mine, but I wanted them to stay the way they were right now. Other than the dark hair and eyes, he was me, right down to the little fold on top of his right ear—exactly like mine. His jaw was square, and when he opened his eyes, he had a stubborn, determined set to his face.
I had a feeling I was going to be dealing with a mini me for the next thirty years or so. God help me.
“You need to put him down, Daddy.”
I glanced up with a smile. “Soon.”
Lottie tilted her head. “We have to name him.”
We had talked names, chosen many, then discarded them. One combination had stuck with me, but I’d stayed silent until my son was born. But looking at him, he suited the name. I was certain Lottie would like it.
“I have the perfect name. I’ve been keeping it secret.”
She held out her hand. “Tell me.”
I stood and settled our son into her arms. She waited patiently as I gazed down at them. My family. I bent and kissed them both.