Page 118 of Doing It for Love

She doesn’t even know how nervous I am, and I’m not the one who has to wiz on a popsicle stick. But the second she told me she was a week late I started talking to myself whenever she wasn’t looking and checking the bank account. Now thatThe Walking Stiffgot a contract, we’ve got a nice chunk of change in savings. But who knows how long that’ll last. Liz is better at taking care of that stuff, so I trust her to tell me if we’re in deep shit or not.

I pick up the socks I left on the floor and toss them in the basket before sitting on the edge of the bed.

The bathroom door opens, and Liz slides into our bedroom with a smile that shows off the small gap between her front teeth. Damn, I love that gap.

“It takes two minutes,” she says, and hops on the bed next to me, resting her chin on my shoulder.

“So…” I say, then gulp to push away the damn nerves. “Two more minutes, then we gotta call our parents and let them know Wanda will be here in nine months.”

Her head tilts to the side.“Wanda?”

“What’s wrong with Wanda?”

“Wanda Wangford.”

“Yeah…”

She shakes her head. “No. That one is off the table.”

I laugh. “Okay, what would you name her?”

“What makes you think it’s a her?”

“Oh, I had a chat with the guys after the last time.” I point to my crotch. “Daddy wants a girl, so I told the fellas to back off and let the ladies go first.”

“You know, I actually believe you did that.”

“So what would you name her?”

“Lavender.”

“Lavender? Isn’t that a color?”

“So…?”

“Better idea…let’s name her Periwinkle,” I tease, and she pushes my shoulder. “Or Mahogany. Turquoise. Cerulean. Ocher.”

“How the hell do you know all those colors?”

“You made me go through about a thousand of them when we painted thatonewall.”

“What if your boys didn’t listen?” She blinks her bright green eyes. She doesn’t look as scared anymore. Actually excited. I squeeze her hand twice ’cause I’m feeling the excitement too.

“Wally,” I say, and she gives me the same look I got with Wanda.

“What is it with you and the W names?”

“Okay, what’s yours?”

“Lucas.”

“What’s with you and the L names?”

“I like the Ls.” She pokes my chest. “Landon.” She points at herself. “Liz.” Then slowly, holding her breath, she drags her finger down to her stomach. She sort of cradles it, and I have the urge to do the same. To kiss her belly button. To press my ear to her skin and strain to hear the buzz of a heartbeat. I take in a breath, realizing that I too was holding it.

“Lucas,” I say, setting my hand on her leg.

“OrLavender.” She sticks her tongue out, and I laugh.

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