It’s unexpected, for both of us.
When she opens the door, her mouth literally falls open when I ask if I can come inside.
“Of course.” She ushers me in quickly, like I might change my mind.
I haven’t been over to her house since she had the baby. And now, she’s almost ready to have her second.
Admittedly, I haven’t been a very good friend.
But I’m willing to try.
To do better now.
“How are you?” Mack asks. “Now that the dust has settled?”
“I’m good.”
This time, it isn’t a lie.
The baby cries from a playpen in the middle of the living room, and Mack walks over to get her. As soon as she picks Keeva up, the fussing stops, and her little blue eyes lock onto me.
She smiles, and I try to smile back, but Mack is laughing at the expression on my face.
“You look terrified.”
I swallow and clear my throat before holding out my arms.
“Can I?”
Now it’s Mack’s turn to look terrified.
“You want to hold her?” she asks.
“Yes. Isn’t that what one generally does with babies?”
“It is…” she agrees.
We are at a standstill. And I think she’s still processing that this is happening. But eventually, she hands Keeva off to me, and she’s heavier than I expected. She looks so small, especially the way Rory holds her in his arms and bounces her around.
Her tiny fingers reach up and grab my nose before slapping me across the face and making some unintelligible sound.
“She likes you,” Mack says.
Another slap to the face.
“I guess so.”
“You look good with a baby in your arms.” Mack says, and I quickly give Keeva back.
Baby steps, after all.
“You want to go get some Dunkies?” I ask her.
“Sure.” Her face lights up because Mack never says no to donuts and coffee. “Just let me call Conor first.”
In the time that it takes Mack to get ready for our outing, she accumulates about five hundred pounds of necessities for the trip. Keeva is secured in the stroller, and Mack hands off the diaper bag and toys to Conor, who follows behind us as we walk.
“Crow says decaf only,” Conor tells her.
