Page 159 of Dirty Like Dylan

“You want to pop in?” I asked Ashley, trying to sound cheerful as he put the truck in park, but as usual, I was shit at cheerful. “Say hi to the girls?”

“No, thanks. Baby showers aren’t really my bag.”

“Right.” I unclipped the seatbelt and leaned over, without thinking about it, and kissed him on the cheek. My hand was on his shoulder and I squeezed him lightly. He very purposefully didn’t turn to kiss me. I’d hurt him; I knew that. Or disappointed him. Or pissed him off. Probably all of the above. “I’ll probably just crash with the girls tonight, okay? You know, give you and Dylan some time…” My words trailed off and his blue eyes caught mine.

“Sure.”

“Thank you for the ride.” I slid out my door, dragging my purse, my camera, and the gender-neutral gift bag with me. Since no one yet knew the gender of Jessa and Brody’s baby, the bag contained an adorable selection of organic cotton baby onesies with elephants, owls and guitars on them, in yellow, green and taupe. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” He attempted something akin to a smile, but he was shit at cheerful, too.

“Take care, Ashley.” I cringed at how fucking casual that sounded.

I knew I could’ve handled this whole thing better, if I actually knew how to. But I’d done my best. I’d said what I felt I should say. I was trying to be brave here, and let the chips fall where they may.

What else could I do?

But somehow, as I watched Ashley drive away, it felt like my efforts had fallen way short of the mark.

I took a few deep breaths and put on my So happy for you and your baby game face, then rang the bell. It kind of felt like my heart had just been torn out and splattered all over the driveway. I couldn’t really stand Ashley in pain.

Maybe I did love him, in a way.

But just not the way I loved Dylan.

* * *

When I walked into the house, Jessa’s baby shower was in full swing. The house belonged to Dolly; I was told she was Zane’s grandma, and that she’d taken Jessa in as a teenager when her mom died. Zane had bought the house for Dolly, which was beautiful, but way too large for one little old lady. It was lovingly decorated, as well as clean and tidy—much like Dolly herself—which told me he probably also had someone here to help her take care of it, and possibly take care of her, too.

Dolly was super sweet and sat smiling in her rocking chair while the younger women whirled around her, drinking and chatting and fawning over Jessa’s belly, and Elle’s too. Elle was barely showing, but everyone seemed excited about both babies joining the extended family.

Maggie and Katie had thrown the shower, and it was smallish, ten women in total. Besides the two of them, Jessa, and Dolly, there was Jessa’s friend Roni, Katie’s sister Becca and her friend Devi, Elle, and Summer, who was apparently tight with Elle. I was honestly kind of surprised I’d made the cut. Though knowing Katie, as I now kinda did, she already saw me as part of the family. Or at least, she really wanted me to be.

I felt honored. It was a pretty cool family.

Plus, after pretty much living with two men, it felt good to be surrounded by women and do girlie stuff. And to try to forget, for a little while, that look on Ashley’s face when I told him what we had was just a kink.

God, I was such an idiot sometimes.

The caterers served up afternoon tea with dainties and those tiny sandwiches with the crusts cut off. We drank mimosas, while Jessa and Elle drank sparkling apple juice. Meanwhile, I took photos of everything; the shower photos would be my other gift to Jessa.

We’d all been told to email Maggie a baby photo of ourselves beforehand, and we played that game where we had to guess which baby photo matched which woman. Some people were easy to guess, as they looked exactly like their baby picture; others were impossible. As far as baby shower games went, it was actually pretty fun; I got stitches from laughing so hard.

Dolly’s was the easiest to figure out because of the old-school photo style; it was a black-and-white photo that had been painted with color, the way they used to do it, her little lips and cheeks colored pink.

Mine was ridiculous, given the weird little suit I was dressed in, with the short pants and polka-dot bow tie. The bow tie was pink, but still. I’d tried to find a better photo—one where I wasn’t dressed like a boy—but no such luck.

“So who’s the boy?” Summer asked when the photo came up on Dolly’s TV screen, where Maggie was projecting the images. “Shit, is someone in this room trans and I didn’t sniff it out?”

“It’s Amber,” Maggie said. “Did anyone guess Amber?”

Everyone consulted their little pieces of paper where we’d written down our guesses earlier. I was kinda flattered that no one had pegged me for the kid in the suit.

“I wasn’t born a boy,” I said, feeling myself blush as everyone looked at me. “But my older sister was kind of… butch. So, you know. Hand-me-downs.” Unfortunately, baby Liv had preferred wearing boy clothes, and I’d inherited all her used clothing. You know, because my parents couldn’t be bothered to get me my own clothes, so that in the future, I wouldn’t have to endure moments such as this.

“You make an adorable butch baby,” Katie said, putting her arm around me.

“Thanks.”

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