Page 92 of Holiday Romance
“Shut your face,” I interrupt. “Shut it right up. Go home. This was the whole point of everything. You’ve already stayed way longer than you should have.”
“It’s a bit of a special situation.”
“And I’msureZoe will understand that you, a stranger, is not here to mind her.”
“And who’s going to mind you?”
I still at his words, melting a little inside, and take a large bite of chocolate to hide it. I realize then how easy it would be to get him to stay with me. That all I need to do is ask and he would. I know it without a doubt and, weirdly, that helps me not to.
My mother appears through the doors a moment later, catching my eye. Time to see my sister.
“Go,” I say gently. “Please. I am so sick of you.”
He laughs, lounging back in the chair. “She’s not going for a while yet,” he says. “I’ll see you back here?”
I nod, my knees creaking as I stand. I’m going to need to do some serious hot yoga after Christmas. “Text me if something changes.”
“I will.”
“Better go meet the newest Kinsella,” I say, and think about leaning down to kiss him, the way couples do, but chicken out and do an incredibly corny finger-gun motion instead that makes him smile and me want to die.
Before I can do anything else to embarrass myself, I turn and follow the signs to the maternity ward.
Zoe’s fancy job has paid for a fancy private room. It’s small and bare, bar the giant hospital machines blinking at us, but Dad brought some of Zoe’s things from home, including a card from the neighbors and a stuffed animal from our childhood. I remember Gabriela’s Cubs bear waiting in the suitcase, which is still probably stuck in Argentina, and make a mental note to give it to her as soon as I can so the baby can imprint early.
And it’s the baby I go to see first. My as-yet-nameless nephew lies pink and new in a plastic crib on the other side of the room and, as soon as I lay eyes on him, the predictable happens.
“You’re not crying already,” Zoe grumbles from the bed.
“It’s okay to cry now, Zoe. All the cool kids are doing it.” I lean over the crib, pressing my finger to the tip of his nose. “You are very small,” I tell him.
“He didn’t feel small when I was pushing him out.”
“I’m trying to have a private moment with my nephew.”
“Well, do it while passing me my juice.Ow.”
I turn around to see her fall back against the bed, a pillow propping up her torso. “You look like shit,” I tell her, leaving the child to sleep while I focus on her.
“I just had a baby,” she grumbles. “What’s your excuse?”
“Days of traveling to be with you.”
“Oh, that was forme, was it?”
“I knew the baby was coming. Sixth sense.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
I take a seat next to the bed, handing her the plastic cup on the nightstand. She really does look worn out, which is understandable, all things considered. And whereas my usual reaction to anything she does is to make fun of her, I feel like she should get a pass for today so, instead, I take her hand and pat it gingerly until she snorts and pulls it away.
“That’s enough affection from you, thanks very much.”
“Well done, Zoe.”
She huffs a breath, but she smiles. “Thank you.”
“The nurse said everything’s fine?”
