Page 70 of Sunday

“I knew there was a reason that I liked that li’l nigga. You ready for this?” he asked, with his hand on the doorknob.

“I don’t know. I’m scared.”

My mouth dropped open when I noticed the cream-colored walls were now a light steel blue. The ceiling and trim were all painted a soft white. On the far wall between the two windows was a brown, handcrafted baby bed.

I slowly stepped toward it and ran my fingers along the smooth surface of the hickory wood. At the top of the bed was a gold engraved nameplate.

“My God, CJ. This is beautiful. Where did you get it from?”

“I built it.”

I spun around, my eyes widened, and my jaw dropped. “When? How?”

“While you were gone. I purchased all the materials I would need.”

“I mean, I knew that you could build things, but this is amazing.”

Cedar seemed to blush before he asked, “What about everything else?”

“It’s all so beautiful, Cedar. You took everything that I said as if you saw it in my mind and made it into a reality,” I declared as I spun around.

On one side of the baby bed, underneath the first window, was an oversized armchair with an ottoman, and on the other side, underneath the other window, was a rocking chair. A large tan throw rug centered the room.

On the wall alongside that was a storage shelf underneath the window. A few stuffed animals sat on top of the shelf. He had hung wooden cutouts of the moon and the stars on one wall, and underneath the stars was the name Aspen carved in hickory wood in cursive lettering.

My fingers traced our baby’s name as tears sprung to my eyes.

“Did you read the nameplate on the bed?”

“No.”

“Read it.”

I walked back to the bed and gasped. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

“Do you really?”

“Yes. Aspen Noah Jackson.”

Cedar kneeled in front of me, embraced my belly, lifted my shirt, and kissed my stomach.

“Welcome home, big guy.”

He pressed his lips against my belly again, and our son kicked.

We both laughed, and my heart was full of love and gratitude.

Cedar

“Inever grow tired of this,” Sunday whispered.

“I would hope not,” I replied as I held her hand.

“Okay, Mom and Dad, let’s take a look at Baby Aspen and see how he’s doing today.”

We watched closely as the sonographer squirted the gel on Sunday’s belly and then slowly moved the transducer around.

I looked at my baby as she lay comfortably with her arm tucked underneath her head. Between her big belly and her perfectly juicy round ass, she had a deep arch in her back. I slid my hand underneath her back and whispered, “I think I’ma have to give you a massage tonight.”

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