Page 42 of The Rebound
A little while before the gang is due to arrive, I finish tying a tangle of balloons on the front door of my condo with a flourish, turning to my friend Lydia with a smile. “What do you think?”
She looks up from where she’s filling a cooler with bottles of craft beer, fixing me with an unimpressed glare from under her dyed-blue bangs. “Aren’t balloons a choking hazard?”
“The baby isn’t here yet. Hence the shower.”
“Right. When’s the main attraction getting here, anyway?” she asks, sliding a beer across the counter to me before she cracks open one of her own.
I check my watch. “About fifteen minutes.”
Damn, time flies when you’re hanging streamers.
I’m hosting the shower at my place so Kinley didn’t have the added pressure of having to clean her condo, or deal with the aftermath of a party.
“This is my first baby shower,” Alex says when he walks through the door, Aspen close on his heels.
I accept the six-pack of IPA he’s holding and nod. “I can tell.”
Aspen laughs and holds up two expertly wrapped baby gifts. “We brought these too.”
Logan and Summer head in next.
“Want anything, Saint?” Logan asks, and I hold my beer up in response.
“You did such a good job decorating,” Aspen says with a gasp that would offend me if I didn’t know her so well. “You could have asked me for help, you know.”
“Ah, it was no big deal. I had Lydia’s help.”
Lydia scoffs at the sound of her name. She’s the owner of one of the bars I frequent and is an old friend from college.
Our relationship is pretty love-hate, based on how many times she’s had me thrown out of her establishment. In all fairness, I can be a sloppy drunk, so I always come back the next morning to pay my tab and leave a big fat apology tip. On more than one occasion, I’ve bought her flowers to make up for starting a fight the night before.
I’m lucky that she had her first kid last year and knows the ins and outs of baby showers. I did have to drop a sizable chunk of cash in her palm to convince her to come and help me set up, but that’s neither here nor there.
One by one, couple by couple, my condo fills up with familiar faces and voices. Lucien and Camille, Coach Wilder, even Les.
Eventually, the door swings open to reveal Reeves, looking as disapproving as ever. He holds the door open wide for Kinley, who steps over the threshold like there’s a trip wire waiting to ignite the whole place.
Wearing a long, flowy summer dress that looks like a watercolor painting fucked a tropical bird, she’s like some fertility goddess blessing us mere mortals with her ethereal presence. For a long moment, I just stare at her, because she really is beautiful.
I catch her eye and beckon her toward me, not missing how Reeves makes a beeline for the couches where the rest of the guys are lounging, instead of joining us. I almost appreciate the lack of subtlety.
“Hey,” I say to Kinley with my most charming smirk. “You look incredible.”
“Thanks,” she says, a little wide-eyed and wondrous. “I feel like a whale. You hung streamers?”
“I did. C’mon.”
I lead her toward the armchair in the living room. It’s comfy as hell, proven by the fact that I had to kick Alex out of it not two minutes ago.
Kinley sinks into the chair as she sizes up all the bodies surrounding her—most of them big, burly male bodies. If I weren’t one of them, I guess I’d be pretty intimidated too.
“Comfy?” I give her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, which seems to snap her out of whatever reverie she was just in.
“Yeah, thank you.” She smiles up at me. “I can’t believe you actually did all this. You must be exhausted.”
“Me? Nah. We’ve barely gotten started. Can I get you some water? Seltzer? Juice?”
“Seltzer would be awesome.”
