“I know what you mean,” I agree. “We weren’t exactly prepared for this.”
She pulls the sweatshirt out from under her shirt, revealing her flat stomach. I reach over, placing my hand against her stomach. She puts her hand over mine and smiles at me.
“I wonder when we’ll feel it kick.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Maybe we should go to the bookstore and get some books. I feel so clueless about this whole thing.”
“Ooh, yeah.” She brightens. “That sounds fun.”
“I don’t really like calling it an it,” I admit. “That feels …”
“Yeah, I know what you mean, it’s weird.” She purses her lips, thinking. “What about bean?”
“Bean?” I repeat.
She shrugs. “That’s what it looks like right now.”
I nod. “Bean … I like it. Bean it is.”
I remove my hand from her stomach and stand. “Let’s go.”
“Right now?” She looks at me incredulously. “I just sat down.”
I tilt my head at her. “If we don’t go now, we never will, you know how we are.”
She laughs. “That’s true. Give me like five minutes to change.”
I groan, tilting my head back to the ceiling. “Five minutes—that’s five hours to you.”
“I won’t be long, promise.” She scurries out of the room and up the steps.
She’s going to get all dolled up, like usual, and there I’ll be in my gym shorts, t-shirt, and baseball cap.
I settle back on the couch with my book, because no matter what she says, she’ll be at least an hour.
It’s a fact of life.
Prue sits beside me on the couch, resting her head on my leg.
I pet her, smiling.
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like without Prue. She came to us accidentally, and now I can’t imagine not having her. Everyone in our family loves her too.
An hour and five minutes later, Thea comes downstairs, with her hair and makeup done, and a dress with heels.
“Uh …” I start. “Is it safe to wear heels when you’re pregnant?”
She narrows her eyes. “As long as I’m comfortable, it’s fine. Heels are my life, don’t try and change me now.”
I chuckle and raise my hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I let Prue run out back to pee before we go, and then grab a bottle of water.
We go in my truck—we always do when it’s both of us, because I refuse to try and fit my giant self in her Mini Cooper. I’m a big guy, that’s a small car, and I’m not going to hunch.
“We’re going to have to get an SUV,” I tell Thea as she climbs in my truck.
“What?” She looks at me like a deer caught in headlights. “Why?”