I leaned back in my chair and drew my knuckles down my jaw. Matt was my family just as much as Erin, and I didn't want to lose him.
"Are we all right?" I asked.
"Is she back?" he asked. "Is she coming home now? For good?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know where we'll end up when she finishes her work at Oxford. But I know she's not gone for good."
Matt knocked his drink against mine, and then raised it up in salute. "We're all right."
* * *
"What arewe doing out here again?" Matt asked, leaning against the wall with his phone in hand.
In the past hour, we'd emptied the whiskey, shared a pie, and—with some help from Sam and Will—offered Patrick all the marriage advice we had between us. Now we were a few steps outside the nursery, listening while Shannon and Erin stood at the changing table, arguing.
About baby clothes.
"I honestly don't know," I said, glancing inside. "But you heard Riley. He said Erin was talking with the girls, and then something happened. I just want to make sure she's okay."
And bysomething happened, I meant that she walked out of a conversation about pedicures like she had hounds on her heels. According to Riley, she'd spent some time in the bathroom, then shared a cheesecake with the Commodore in the butler's pantry, and that was where she'd also bumped into Shannon. From there, they'd headed to the nursery.
"Okay, I get it. You've convinced me that you're not a cradle-robbing dickwaffle." Matt pointed down the hallway. "I'm gonna go find my wife."
"You do that," I said, leaning closer to hear their conversation.
"Shannon, no," Erin said impatiently. "She's not wearing that. It's too fucking pink, and lacy. She shouldn't look like a Victorian-era tea party."
"It's gorgeous," Shannon replied.
"Oh my God, why do you do this? It doesn't matter whether it's gorgeous because she's going to be so uncomfortable."
"It's not a goddamn corset," Shannon said.
"Might as well be," Erin muttered.
"Fine," Shannon said, throwing her hands up. "Let's put it on her, take pictures, and then change her into something else."
"That's ridiculous," Erin said. "You shouldn't stuff her into these poufy dresses and delicate things. She needs to be able to move around."
"She's an infant, Erin. She's not swinging from any monkey bars just yet," Shannon said. "Come on, help me get this on her."
"Abby doesn't look happy about this decision," Erin said, shifting the baby into a sitting position. "It's not too late to put on that cute little white sleeper, the one with the frog on the bum."
"But those are pajamas," Shannon said, bringing the dress over the baby's head. "We don't wear pajamas all day."
"No, that's exactly what you do when you're a baby," Erin argued. "The greatest part of being a baby is that you're allowed to wear pajamas all the time and look adorable doing it."
"I'm putting this damn dress on her," Shannon snapped. "Stop bitching about it and help me."
Laughing at that, I stepped into the nursery to find Erin cradling the baby in her arms. She hit me with a bright smile and beckoned me closer.
"Isn't this a splendid tablecloth that we've dressed Abby in?" she asked, completely facetious.
"I'm not getting in the middle of your debate." Holding out my hands, I said, "Let me see this little one. I haven't had a turn yet."
Erin placed Abby in my arms and then rejoined Shannon. They leaned against the changing table, their arms crossed and their heads tipped just a bit to the left, and it was as if they'd never been apart.
"Holy shit. Look at that," Erin murmured. She pointed to me, and I glanced down at Abby, confused. "I am having some very intense feelings at this moment."
