Julia 29
The wineglass is almost to Brett’s lips when it stops short, sending tiny waves of Shiraz spilling over the rim and onto his shirt.
“Oh, fuck!” he says, looking down at his newly bloodied chest briefly before looking back at Matthew. “You’re making that shit up,” he accuses with a laugh.
“I shit you not,” Matthew responds, shaking his head solemnly. “I wish I was. Julia is determined to get my kid’s ass kicked on the playground.”
“What? Stop it!” I say, smacking his arm. “God! What is with you and the baby names? I make a few … original suggestions, and suddenly I want our child to be bullied?”
“What was it again? Bass Cleff?” Brett teases.
I put my hands on my hips. I’m not amused.
“Crescendo,” Matthew corrects.
“Oh, no! Poor little Crescendo!” Brett says in a tortured voice. “God, those kids can be such douchebags! Julia! Why, Julia? Why?”
“Okay, okay,” I moan. “Knock it off!”
We’re two bottles of wine too many into this little ‘after party’ at Tucci’s, down the street from the Beau-Radcliffe Gallery. Well, more accurately, Matthew and Brett are. Maggie’s a bit tipsy, too, and I’m finding it’s not as much fun being the only sober one at the table.
“I’m thinking Glockenspiel,” Matthew says, ignoring me.
“Are you sure?” Brett counters. “Dude, I was thinking Cadenza or Allegro or maybe Forte …”
“Okay, okay! Enough already!” Maggie laughs as she passes the basket of bread in my direction. “Leave Julia alone. She’s just trying to find an original name that has some meaning to her.”
Brett leans over and kisses her cheek sweetly. “That’s my girl. Always coming to someone else’s defense,” he murmurs.
She swats him with a linen napkin.
“I’m serious! Knock it off!” she says more sternly, and then, she smiles and rolls her eyes. “Ugh. I knew Julia and I should have gone out and left the two of you at home!” she groans.
“No, no. I’m sorry, Maggie,” Matthew says with a contrite smile. “Julia knows I’m just teasing. I don’t care what we call the baby, I just want to get him or her into the world safely.”
“Good answer,” I say with a smile.
There’s a whirl of activity around us as two servers deliver beautiful plates, piled high with Italian delicacies meant to be shared family-style. My mouth is watering.
“Dig in, everyone!” Maggie says, starting the circulation of the platters and plates and bowls filled with our Italian feast.
“Wow, this all looks so amazing!” I say as I ladle a river of sauce onto a mountain of pasta. “Good restaurant choice, Maggie!”
“Thanks! I love to come here so I can try a little of everything.”
“Oh, yeah. And she means everything,” Brett teases. “Careful! You can run-up a bill that’s more than your bow is worth here, Matthew.”
“No worries about that tonight,” Matthew says, holding up the empty bottle for our server who hurries off to find an opened one. “Julia’s got the tab tonight,” he grins.
“Hmm?” I ask distractedly, having been caught glancing at my phone.
“Don’t you worry, Mama Bear, Baby Bear’s doing just fine,” he says, nudging my arm with his.
I nudge back and smile.
“Yeah, I don’t know, if I were you guys, I wouldn’t be worried about what’s going on now. But I would be losing sleep over what David will do when he has an accomplice!” he chuckles.
Matthew looks at me, his face suddenly panic-stricken.
“Shit, Julia, he’s right,” he says with deadly seriousness. “We are so fucked.”