Page 112 of Dr. Bad Boy

My heart skips a little as the realisation truly hits me. I’m going to be a mother. “Thanks. I’ll, uh…let you get back to your evening.”

“Go do something good for yourself and then get a good night’s sleep. You know where I am if you need me.”

“Will do. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, mama.”

I end the call and place my phone on the side table. “Right." I look at my belly and try to imagine those cells turning into a little person. I'm going to be a mother. To that...little bundle of cells. "Well let’s do what auntie Ellie tells us—"

Shit, this kid's going to need a name

And like a real one, but right now all I can think is Little Bit

Because that's all it is at the moment

She is…He is…

Oh My God, I'm going to be a mom.

42

Max

Operation Prove-I’m-Ready-For-Baby is well under way. I’ve emptied out the third bedroom, which had been a holding room for cardboard boxes as I slowly unpacked, and had a contractor come in to remove the carpet and install hardwood floor, which I then promptly covered again with a sound-muffling almost wall-to-wall area rug. But it could be rolled up and cleaned underneath. No dust or other allergens for my child.

I still have the small problem of Violet not knowing I’m turning the room into a nursery or that I want her to move in with me. I need to talk to her, but first I need something that screamsnurserywithout full-on furniture. I’m pretty sure she might want to have a say in what the crib looks like.

So three days before Christmas, I tell Blair I’m taking the morning off work and I drag Tate to Costco. He meets me in the parking lot.

“I have a game tonight,” he grumbles, but he also grabs a cart and starts listing off the shit he needs to grab, so he’s obviously not that annoyed.

“You have games a lot of nights. Get over it. I need some moral support.”

“For shopping?”

“For…” I take a deep breath. “Look, this is a secret, okay?” I can’t tell Lachlan or Gavin yet, but something tells me Tate won’t blink an eye at my predicament. He’s enough of a player that I’m sure he’s had a pregnancy scare or two in his past.

Not that I’m scared. I’m not. I’m…well, I’m petrified but in a good way. It’s complicated. I’m not sure he’ll get that, though.

“To my grave, man. What’s up?”

“Violet’s pregnant.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Yours?”

“I will kick your ass right here, right now.”

He dances back and holds up his hands, grinning. “In that case, congratulations.”

The force of that word hits me like a punch in the chest, and I rub that spot. Yeah. Wow. “Thanks.” I mean that more than I can say. “I’m wrapping my head around it.”

“So we’re hunting for baby stuff?” he asks as we head inside. “What are we looking for, exactly?”

I frown. I’m not sure. But Costco seems like a place where fathers shop. Fathers and hockey players, because Tate’s got a membership and the girl at the door seemed to know him. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

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