“No.” She shakes her head. “It’ll be beautiful.”
I had the baby’s first name spelled out on a piece of reclaimed wood with twigs and greenery intertwined around it so that it stands out boldly. I thought it was unique and different, but I wasn’t sure if Thea would like the rustic style compared to the girly and pink look she has going on in the nursery.
“It’ll be perfect above the door in her room. It’s amazing, Xander.” She rises on her knees and leans over to press a kiss to my lips.
I grin, pleased that she loves it. “I thought it would be special for her first Christmas since she isn’t actually here yet.”
Tears fill her eyes. “So special. This little girl is so lucky. You’re already the best daddy and she’s not even here yet.”
Thea wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me, kissing the scruff on my cheek.
I close my eyes, content to stay wrapped in this moment a little bit longer.
I’d say Christmas was a success, and I finally allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief.
Now, we just have to make it through the baby shower.
Thea
38 Weeks Pregnant
Baby is the size of a stalk of rhubarb
“Xander Kincaid, where are you taking me?” I groan, staring out the car window.
“Just be patient. You’ll see,” he urges.
I sigh, wiggling uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the Range Rover. I’m huge now. At thirty-eight weeks pregnant, I’m reaching the end of my pregnancy and with it all my patience for everything. I haven’t slept in two weeks. I’m hot. I’m uncomfortable. I’m nauseous. I’m crampy. It’s always something.
“I want to go home, eat snacks, and watch TV,” I protest, figuring he’s going to force me to socialize. I didn’t even want to put pants on this morning, which is a big deal for me, because I love clothes and dressing up.
“Trust me, this is better,” he assures me.
Ten minutes later, he pulls up outside a café I’ve never been to before. There’s a sign with yellow and white balloons attached, swaying in the wind.
Xander parallel parks and then comes around to help me out. I don’t really need the help, he’s just paranoid the baby’s going to fall out or something.
She’s definitely dropped, that’s for sure.
He takes my hand and helps me out, guiding me into the café. He seems to know where he’s going, unlike me.
He reaches a back room and I gasp.
“Surprise!” yells our friends and family.
“Oh, my God.” And then I burst into tears, because hormones.
The room is decorated with more yellow and white balloons with a sign when you first walk in that says, Where troubles melt like lemon drops. The tablecloths are all yellow and there are even cookies make to look like lemons.
“It’s perfect,” I confess, as my friends come around the table.
“Do you like it?” Rae asks, coming up to hug me. “I was worried it wouldn’t be pink enough for you, but Xander said with your lemon craving we should do a lemon theme.”
“This is better than I could’ve dreamed of,” I admit. “It’s … wow.”
I look around a table piled high with gifts and another with food. On the food table there are mason jars filled with lemon water and a yellow and white-striped straws.
Behind the table are streamers of yellow, pink, and white circles.