“There won’t be,” I tell her.
She shows us which documents we should keep handy and cautions us on getting attached. “The parents have seven days left to in which they could change their mind. If that happens, you’ll hear from me.”
“But we’ll be out of town,” I tell her.
Harrison grips my hand with his. “We can fly back. It’ll be okay.”
I don’t know how he does it, but his words calm me. “We’ll be okay,” I repeat, changing his words slightly.
I’m in tears by the time we reach our car. Harrison holds me in a tight hug while my tears soak his dress shirt. “I hope these are happy tears,” he whispers into my ear. I nod against his chest but am unable to look at him. “That’s good because, by tomorrow night, they might be tears of frustration if the baby won’t sleep.”
I lean back enough to look at Harrison. “I’ll never get frustrated with him.”
Harrison kisses me on the tip of my nose, then my forehead, and finally, the top of my head. “Come on, let’s get to the store and pick up a few things for this bundle of joy and think about a name because once we tell JD that the baby’s name is John Doe, he’ll start calling him JD Jr., and I can’t have that.”
I snort and cover my nose. “You’re right. He needs a name, even if it’s just something we call him.”
Every thirty seconds of our drive to the store, we’re blurting out names. Not a single of one stands out. “I think we need to stop name associating. Saying we know someone or went to high school with someone with that name isn’t going to help us,” I say as Harrison pulls into the parking lot.
“You’re right. Maybe we should call him something that is a mix of Quinn, Elle, and Peyton.”
I slowly unbuckle and stare at Harrison. He shrugs. “It’s a good thing Quinn is a respectable name.”
Harrison laughs and gets out of the car. We meet around the front, and he reaches for my hand. “It’s not like I would name my children rocket ship or drumstick.”
“You might if given a chance.”
As soon as we walk into the store, Harrison is recognized instantly. He doesn’t stop and greet the whispers as we’re on a mission. When we come to the baby section, I’m overwhelmed.
“Holy crap, how do we pick?” I ask as Harrison pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts typing. “What are you doing? Don’t tell anyone yet about the baby. I want to surprise them.”
“I’m looking up the best car seat on the market.”
“Oh.” I start to browse and find a soft blanket, a couple of outfits, and a diaper bag I like. Harrison wanders off, and when he returns, he’s pushing a box with his foot.
“Found one.”
“Perfect.” I show him what I have in my arms. “Can you think of anything else?”
“Nope. We can come back after we pick him up. There’s a stroller we’re going to grab on our way out. It’s a bassinet type. It’s cute. I like it.”
“And impractical,” I tell him. “We need one that fits the car seat.”
Harrison shrugs. “Eh, I like this one. He can have two. Also, I found a crib. It’s black and awesome.”
“Harrison,” I groan, but he smiles. He kisses me quickly and says, “Black is manly, and our little guy needs all the confidence-boosting he can get. You can decorate his room in whatever as long as he has a music corner and a black crib. Deal?”
I roll my eyes, knowing I can’t win all the battles. “Deal. But I get the final say on his name. I don’t want to call this baby Elquinton or something like that.”
“Wow, babe, did you think of that name right now?”
“Let’s go, Harrison. I want to get him home and snuggle.”
“Me too,” he says. “Me too.”
9
Harrison