Page 53 of The Wedding Planner's Manny
“He's called Michelangelo,” Nathan informed me, stepping aside to let me into the house. “Michel for short.”
“You named him?”
“Dad won't let me name him, but I've called him that so much he's listening to it now. If Dad wanted to pick a name, he's waited too long. Isn't that right, Michel?” Nathan leaned down to pet the dog, who gave a short affirmative bark. Either he knew exactly what we were talking about or he simply appreciated the attention. Maybe both.
“I guess Michel is a good name,” I said, taking my coat off and hanging it by the door.
Nathan opened his mouth to say something in response, but when his gaze fell on me now, he froze.
Yeah, I was definitely showing now. Still... “It's rude to stare at people,” I told him.
He ignored my words. “What happened to you?” he demanded without even trying to be polite about his curiosity. We really needed to work on his manners.
“Nothinghappenedto me. Don't be rude.”
“Did you swallow a beach ball or something? It's not even beach weather!”
Really? That was his problem? That it wasn't the weather to be swallowing beach balls? “Did you have fun at your grandmother's?” I tried to change the topic, because I didn't really want to talk about my pregnancy before we had everyone gathered together. Besides, the boy was being rude.
“Grandma kept trying to make me eat food I don't like. Like broccoli.”
“You ate the broccoli when I put it in your omelet,” I pointed out. It had taken a lot of trial and error to figure out how I could make Nathan eat his greens, but I'd done it in the end.
“That's different. They don't taste likebroccolithen.” He said broccoli like it was the vilest thing in the world. At least I’d distracted him. Or so I thought for about ten seconds until he went right back to staring at my belly.
“When did you get pregnant?”
Well, at least he knew it wasn’t actually a beach ball.
“You can’t be pregnant,” Nathan continued when I didn’t respond immediately.
I searched the hallway behind him with my eyes, wondering if anyone was listening in on our conversation—aside from the dog anyway. Michel was pawing at my leg for attention, so I picked him up and gave him a kiss, trying to collect my thoughts. “Why can’t I be pregnant?” I asked, hoping that Ethan and Caleb would remain occupied with whatever they were doing for a little while longer.
“Caleb is getting a bath,” Nathan said as if he could read my thoughts. “He dunked himself in flour.
Don't even ask.”
Good, if they were in the bathroom, they were out of earshot. “Why don't we go sit down while we wait for them?” I asked, entering the living room without waiting to see if Nathan would follow or not. He did, of course.
“Don't try to change the topic,” he admonished me as he took a seat on the couch.
“I'm not doing anything. But do you realize the questions you're asking are a little rude?” I didn't think he struggled with the concept as much as I did when I was his age.
“I'm just surprised,” he defended himself. “You weren't pregnant when we left.”
I had to laugh at that. “Of course I was pregnant when you left.” I didn't get this big overnight. “You just didn't know, and I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean to spring this on you like this.” Although I didn't understand why he was so upset either. Why did it matter to him whether I was pregnant or not? “This doesn't mean that I'm going to stop working here, you know.”
“No?” My response seemed to calm him down at least a little bit, but I could tell there was something else bothering him. Something other than the idea that I might quit. “I hung that mistletoe, you know.
Because I thought it would get you and my dad together.”
I stared at Nathan. He'd seriously done that? I'd known he'd hung the mistletoe, but I thought it was a bit of innocent decoration. I'd underestimated him. “You can't force people together like that,” I told him. Even if it had worked. It wasn't right to meddle in people's lives.
“I thought...” He stopped and sighed. Then he asked, “Who's the baby from? It's not my dad’s, is it?”
“No, it's not,” I told him, even though that was another question that toed the line.
His shoulders fell. “Maybe it's only fair if you don't get my dad,” he said finally.
