“Damn it, Mil!” I screech as I duck my head for about the tenth time. “You nearly dropped the stupid rail on my head again.”
“You weren’t supposed to let go yet. It’s not even stuck together. Pass me that whatchamacallit, will you?”
“You mean the screwdriver?” I ask as I lift the side rail of the crib back into place.
“I don’t know. Something to make this thing stay stuck to this thing.”
I pass her the screwdriver.
“Maybe I should hire someone to do this. It kind of seems a bit risky trying to do it ourselves, being that my baby is going to be sleeping in it and all.”
“Pffft, nonsense. We got this.”
There is no way in hell that I think we’ve got this. But I keep quiet and skim over the instructions that came with the flat packed crib again.
“So, Seb …”
Here we go. I’ve been wondering when she’d bring him up again. “What about him?”
I hadn’t told her about his reaction when I told him I was pregnant. Millie can be slightly overprotective. Sure, it stung. I was liking the idea of us becoming friends and enjoyed hanging out with him, but I haven’t seen him since that afternoon. And I’m not about to go all desperado and stalk him to demand an explanation.
“Just wondering if you’d thought any more about hitting that?” The screw she was holding hits the hardwood floor with a ting, and she starts scooting around on the floor to look for it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I hadn’t even thought about it to start with.” I lie. Not that I would’ve or that it matters much now anyway.
She turns around on all fours to glare at me.
“What?”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“Shut it, turd-burger.” I put the instructions down and pick up the large end piece when I think I know what I’m supposed to do. “Here, come hold this end thingy.”
She abandons her search for the screw and holds it up for me. I stare at it a second before trying to slot the rails into the carved-out sections. It’s not working, so I huff and place it down. We both sit down and just stare at it for a while.
“Well, aren’t we just fucking awesome at building shit,” I grumble.
“Hey, speak for yourself, ho-bo-baggins.”
I laugh and then groan when I look back at the crib. Why can’t it be easier? It probably is, and we just suck.
“So what happened with that guy you went on a date with the other week? Harry, Harold …?” I trail off.
“Henry.” She sighs. “Ugh, don’t even go there.” She twiddles the screwdriver around between her palms.
I scoff. “You know I’m going there. What happened?”
She blows a piece of hair out of her face. “He tried to get a homerun in the back of his car on our second date then threw the biggest hissy fit ever when I shut that shit right down. No, thank you. I grabbed my shit and got the hell out of his Dodge.”
“I hope you’ve got a nice full bladder for me,” Dr. Hollis says as she enters the room. My bladder is indeed so full that I feel like I might pee myself with just the slightest movement.
Millie gazes at the diagrams of pregnant bodies on the wall. “Holy shit, Liv. The little nugget is all tucked away inside you, just like this little guy over here.” She points at the detailed picture that shows a baby in the womb. I snort at the way she refers to the baby in the picture as a little guy. Climbing onto the bed and pulling the sheet over myself, I try to think of anything to get my mind off my bladder feeling like it may explode. But it’s so bad that I can hardly think of anything else.
“How’ve you been feeling, dear?” Dr. Hollis sits beside the bed and asks while flicking the motor on, setting various things up, and then sanitizing her hands.
“Pretty good, actually.”
“Good to hear. Now, let’s get started, shall we?” She lifts the bottle of cool gel as I drag my dress up over my bump. Squeezing the gel onto my belly, she spreads it over my stomach, and I flinch at the cool feel.
“Ready whenever you are. I seriously think I’m about to wet myself.”
She and Millie both laugh, which only serves in making me want to growl at them.
Then there’s that noise. That sweet, same melody that instantly has my head turning to the monitor and my heart warming.
“Are we finding out what the sex is today?”
“YES!” Millie squeals at the same time I say, “NO.”
Dr. Hollis smirks while looking at the screen and taking measurements.
“I think we’ll have to go with what Mom wants. Sorry, Millie.”
“Come on, Liv. Please,” she all but begs.
I’m not caving, though. I’ve thought a lot about this over the past couple of weeks, and while I’m dying to know, I don’t think I need to. It doesn’t matter what I’m having. I think the only thing that finding out will accomplish is maybe pushing me back ten steps when I’ve put everything I am into taking five steps forward.
Finding out the sex of your baby is kind of a huge deal and something that couples will usually do together. I’ve finally started wrapping my head around the fact that I’m on my own. That he’s not going to come barreling through the front door any day now to beg forgiveness.
I can’t keep risking my heart when it comes to Zeke Walters.
So that means protecting myself from anything that might send me down the rabbit hole of unending heartbreak again. Plus, who doesn’t like surprises? Okay, so I’m not usually a fan of them, but in this case, I can make an exception.
“Sorry, Mil, but I can’t.” I plead with my eyes for her to understand. She looks at me for a minute before nodding and grabbing my hand to give it a squeeze.
“Ah, there we go. Finally got a clear view,” says Dr. Hollis.
We both turn to see my baby on the screen. And I fall in love a little bit more, if that’s even possible.
After the appointment, Millie and I head to the waiting room so I can take care of the bill with the receptionist. Dr. Hollis comes bounding down the hallway to say a quick goodbye and hand me some images before we are on our way out the doors.
Dawdling out toward the car with Millie by my side, we aimlessly discuss the baby and how freaking cute it is already. That tiny little nose.
Out of my peripheral vision, I spot Keira and her posse power walking right toward us. Literally almost running in high heels.
What the actual fuck?
Keira stops right next to Millie. Misty and Simone stand right behind her like they have her back. Uh, okay then. I’m not sure what their agenda is, but what the hell do they think a pregnant chick is gonna do, go all Karate Kid on their asses?
“I can’t believe I haven’t had the chance to say congratulations, Olive. My goodness, where are my manners? Oh, and how’s your baby daddy doing?” Keira says, puffing slightly with her hands on her hips and a smirk playing on her lips.
“Move the fuck along, bitch. No one wants you here,” Millie drawls.
Kiera rolls her eyes. “Whatever. At least, I’m not the talk of the town with a boyfriend who took off and is probably doing whatever or should I say whoever the fuck he pleases. All the while poor little Olive is stuck researching diaper bags and breast pumps.”
“That’s it. Hold my freaking purse,” Millie growls.
Okay, time for me to play the pregnant chick card to my advantage before this shit gets out of control. “Mil, you wouldn’t put the baby and me in that kind of situation now, would you? We’re not brawlers anyway. Let’s just go. It’s not worth it.” She knows I’m right.
She keeps giving Keira the stink eye then squares her shoulders. “Damn right, I wouldn’t. Fuck you, slut bags. Let’s roll, Mama.” She loops her arm through mine, and we continue walking to her car. Just as we’re climbing in, I hear Keira call out, “Yeah, you do that. Rolling is going to be the only thing you’ll be able to do soon anyhow, Olive!”
We turn to see her posse glancing at each other. Kiera glares at them pointedly before throwing up her arms. “What? It sounded better in my head, all right? Bitches.”
We climb into the car, laughing our asses off until we’re pulling into my driveway.