“You’re a father.”
“I know.”
“Wes almost fell over when the baby popped out from under my dress,” Liz said. “It was like that scene inThe Nutcracker. Everyone in the waiting room applauded, too, when I lifted up my dress. It was like a movie! But my mom was scandalized. Also,” she said to Brea, “the dress did catch the baby, so thanks for that, but now it’s covered in gunk. I refuse to get rid of it, because I’m wearing it again on a monthly basis so I can run around my house and pretend to be a princess.”
“I have cleaned much worse out of silk,” Brea said grimly.
Dana pumped hand sanitizer onto my hands, and Wes pushed back the fabric covering the little bundle on his chest. I peered at the tiny, black-haired baby. It was nothing short of miraculous. I almost couldn’t believe it.
“Awww!” Brea cooed. “Look at all that hair.”
“She’s got blue eyes,” Liz said.
I stared at the baby.
Ivy and Elsie came over with a tray of hors d'oeuvres they had saved for Liz. Liz alternated between those and the nachos.
“Liz,” Ivy said, “this is…well, I think your wedding is going down on record as the most memorable we’ve ever done. I don’t know whether to be impressed or scandalized that you’re here walking around.”
“You can be both,” Liz assured her.
“So...cake?”
* * *
As we watchedWes and Liz cut the cake before Wes insisted on whisking the baby and Liz away to rest, I wrapped my arms around Brea and kissed her neck.
“I want this.”
“What?” she said, leaning against me. “You want a big wedding?”
“Yeah, actually. And a baby.”
“But not at the same time,” Brea said, turning around to pull me down for a kiss.
“No. I would hope that between the two of us, we’d be a little more organized than that!”
56
Brea
“Ineed to see where all the magic happens!” Sophie said in excitement when I opened the door. My friends were hovering outside with bottles of champagne. Elsie had hors d'oeuvres, and Sophie had cupcakes.
“This is supposed to be a working session,” Ivy said as Amy popped the cork on the champagne bottle.
“Where are your glasses?”
“We really don’t have anything. We don’t even live here yet,” I admitted.
“Drinking out of the bottle it is then!” Grace said, taking a swig of champagne.
“I need the grand tour,” Ivy said dramatically, whipping out her notebook. “Also, where is the famous steamer trunk?”
“That is upstairs to keep it far away from the dog,” I said, leading them up to my sewing room. Beowulf bounded up after us.
All my friends cooed at the studio space with its floor-to-ceiling windows, balcony, and angled bookcase.
“This is literally like ten times as big as my apartment,” Amy said. “Do you need a houseguest or a live-in friend?”
