I hate thinking about it, but I have, and I have a whole notebook called Plan B. “I use the degree I got. I become a high school science teacher and coach football.”
“And at any of those points do you foresee the situation where you’d leave Gabi and your son?”
“Of course not. That’s ridiculous. Why would…”
Oh.
I get it now.
“If I had asked your dad any of those questions before they happened to us, he would’ve said the right things, but it wouldn’t have been with the firmness you just did. He would’ve stumbled through an answer or tried to change the subject. And that Maddox is how I know you’re nothing like him.”
I let her words hang for a second when I nearly jump at the sound of the nursery door creeping open.
“Maddox? Is everything okay?”
I don’t know how Gabi found me, or why she’s here, but I’ve never needed her more than I need her now.
“Thank Mom,” I say as I stand up and turn to face her. “I love you.”
“I love you too Maddox.”
I hang up the phone and drop it on the floor and take one step into Gabi, hugging her as tight as I possibly can. I press my lips to her stomach, needing the connection between the three of us.
“Hey,” she says as she strokes my back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
She does. In every way. She has my heart. She has my soul. She has my world. Now and forever.
Always.
CHAPTER 29
GABI
“Where did I put the…” I trail off because not only don’t I remember where I put it. I don't know whatitis.
Welcome to the final stretch of pregnancy…
I want to say that my inability to find theit—seriously what the fuck was I looking for—is a product of that I’ve only been in this kitchen for a week and we just finished unpacking it yesterday. In my defense, this kitchen is bigger than my whole apartment was. And there are so many cupboards and drawers I can’t fathom how I’m going to fill them all. Everywhere I look there’s a cupboard. The island has cupboards and inside those cupboards are drawers. Even the garbage can is hidden in a cupboard.
The worst part is that I can’t finditand only half of the cupboards are full. I can’t imagine my confusion when all the bottles I registered for—that are all bought from the registry—get here, along with the other baby things. I really won’t be able to find shit then.
Oh well. It’ll be worth it. It already is.
Realizing that I’m not going to remember what I was looking for any time soon, I turn my attention back to the cutting boardthat has a spread of vegetables on it. I call out to my speaker to turn on my favorite playlist—appropriately called Kitchen Jamz—and immediately, the playlist doesn’t disappoint, playing an upbeat song that doesn’t make a lick of sense lyrically, but back in high school, I couldn’t stop singing it. I mean, how do you kiss someone through the phone?
The lack of lyrical understanding doesn’t stop me from moving my hips—which are as wide as they’ve ever been—to the song as I start cutting green peppers. But not any green peppers. Ones that I’m using to use to make our first official dinner in our new home.
I hate that every meal we’ve eaten here has been take out of some sort, but between the bakery, unpacking, and his football schedule, neither of us have had the time or energy. But tonight I’m feeling good, probably better than I have in weeks. Our son, who’s still being called Tiny Tot because we can’t decide on a name, has been pretty calm today. It’s Saturday, so I had the early shift at the bakery. I was home by noon and took a glorious nap that’s left me refreshed. I was even able to finish unpacking the last of my clothes. And because Maddox plays away on Monday night to open the season—a rarity in pro football from what I’ve been told—we have tonight to ourselves before his travel day tomorrow.Just the two of us.
Because before I know it, it’ll be three.
I can’t wait for Tiny Tot to be here, but at the same time, the closer I get, the more terrified I am. There are the little things—the fact that we don’t have a name. Still having no clue what brand of diapers to use. There are the much bigger ones, which all fall under the category of being a mother in general. Breastfeeding, sleep schedules, and keeping a human alive. You know, the basics. I want this. I think I’m ready for it. But that doesn’t make me less terrified that I’m going to screw one or a hundred things up.
Then there’s the actual birth, which is the fear that has kept me up most nights. Sure, I’ve already told my doctor to give me every legal drug and pain killer there is, and Maddox has made me a playlist that he’s insistent is going to make me think that I’m at a dance party, but that hasn’t quelled the worries. Things happen. Plans change. If anyone knows that, it’s me.
What if something happens and surgery is needed? What if the baby is breech? What if Maddox isn’t there? Shelby is on standby to be in the room with me, but I want Maddox there. I need him there. I love my best friend, but I know if the going gets tough, I’m going to need his strength. The way that he can keep me focused and calm. There are a hundred more thoughts like those that run through my brain daily, and I hope that not one of them comes true.
But again, plans change. Hell, nothing in my life has ever gone according to plan. But maybe, just maybe this time something will, and we'll have the normal, routine, very undramatic but completely exciting birth of our son.
