I touched my wrist to hers. “Me, too. So I heard there’s a party.”
I could hear the noise of party attendees, the collective oohs and aahs that accompanied gift-opening. We were two days off from Game 1 of the Finals, starting at home, thankfully. I wasn’t sure throwing a baby shower in the middle of all that was such a good idea, but my mom and Elle were determined that it should happen before Super Kid was born, and not the week before, either.
No longer were baby showers considered the sole domain of the mom-to-be and her female friends. I had attended enough of them over the years to know the expectant dad and the male spouses were welcome—no, required—to show their faces.
“Franky has a baby in her stomach.” My niece sounded both horrified and fascinated.
“Yep, she does. That’s my baby. I’m going to be a daddy.”
Tilly twitched her nose. “Like my daddy?”
“Yeah, just like that.” I moved forward, still carrying my niece, and stood near the entrance to the great room. The place was packed with family, teammates, spouses, and boxes of every shape and size. I hadn’t even realized we were registered anywhere. I had assumed I’d buy all that stuff when we needed it.
Franky was seated in a wing-back chair, one of the firmer ones that I knew was probably better for her back pain. My mom was passing her gifts, like she was the lady-in-waiting to her queen.
“Finally, he shows,” Cody Jacobs said, which turned everyone’s head in my direction. I heard congratulations and best wishes, but it barely registered. All I could see was her.
She lifted her hand and gave me a small wave. I waved back. So did Tilly.
This morning, Franky had texted me.
They’re throwing a baby shower for us.
I’d love if you can make it.
Only if you want to.
Try to keep me away.
My mother approached me with Elle. “I was a little worried you weren’t going to show!” Mom was so excited about the baby, and I suspected she secretly hoped that Franky and I were more than just co-parents. Apparently, we all did, except the baby mom herself.
I set my niece down and turned to my mom. “Franky is over eight months gone, Mom. This is tiring for her.”
My mother smiled knowingly. “Oh, we’re taking care of her.”
“Don’t worry, Jason,” Elle said as she smoothed Tilly’s hair. “She’s doing fine. And if she wasn’t, she’d say so.”
Would she? Franky was outspoken and forthright with her opinions, but she also wanted to fit in.
“Excuse me.” I moved toward her, stepping around diaper pails and baby baths, until I loomed over her.
She looked up, blinking large, blue pools behind those sexy glasses. “Hello.”
“Hi, Doc. Need a break?”
Her eyes lit up with amusement. “I’d love one.”
I called out, “Okay, folks. Let’s take ten and give my baby mama a moment to pee and accept a daddio belly rub.”
A few people clapped, the usual idiots who thought a man looking after the mother of his child was “cute,” I supposed. I held out my hand, and she accepted, gripping hard for leverage to pull herself to a stand. Damn, she was huge, and with another month to go, I didn’t see how she could grow that baby to term and still remain upright.
“Thank you,” she murmured as I navigated between strewn wrapping paper and boxes and unopened gifts.
“You need the restroom?”
“No, I’m okay for now. Could we talk?”
“You bet.”
