“Like poop?” I asked.
“Yes?” Val said.
“Is that a question?” I asked.
“We don’t have to do it.” Val smoothed her skirt over her thighs. Bless her, she’d worn a floral pattern for today. It was the most mom-like outfit I’d seen her in since she’d had Ella. “There’s another game where we get out a measuring tape and guess the circumference of your belly . . .”
Was she serious? I looked like a hot air balloon—I didn’t need confirmation I was actually the size of one. Sweat dripped from my under-boobs down my stomach. I pushed my damp hair behind my ear and shifted in an attempt to dislodge the underwear wedged up my ass.
Roger winced. “I don’t think measuring anything is such a good idea . . .”
“Me neither,” I agreed. “I don’t remember the poop game, but I also forgot my niece’s birthday last week and nearly had a panic attack trying to get a present in the mail the day before.”
Tiffany pouted. “You forgot Coco’s birthday?”
“Yes, and I also forgot you were sitting there,” I said. “Give me a break. Pregnancy brain is a real thing.”
Everyone laughed nervously. Val stood. “You know, I think I hear Ella crying in the playroom.”
Tiffany grabbed her wrist. “I don’t hear anything, but even if I did, that’s why we hired a babysitter. I’m sure the kids are fine.”
Slowly, Val sat. “All right.”
If Val and Tiffany had formed an alliance, I must’ve really been a monster. I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just so uncomfortable.” I pointed around the room. “None of you said it would be this bad.”
“It was the same for me, but I wasn’t around people the final month,” Piper said. “You’re really brave.”
“Brave, or ignorant?” I asked, shooting Val a look. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have agreed to do it so late.”
Tiffany stood. “I definitely hear some weird noises coming from the playroom. I should probably check on Coco.”
“Hey, what about the babysitter?” Val called after her, then muttered, “Traitor.”
Manning came in the front door, wiping his brow with his t-shirt sleeve as he entered the living room. “Almost there, sweetheart,” he said, smiling as I glared at him. Vega trailed after him the way she always did, barely noticing us. “I just need to play with the thermostat,” he added.
All the women in the room turned, plus Roger. “Holy shit,” he whispered.
Manning wore an old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. His biceps were as big as my head and covered in a sheen of sweat. For some reason, he was wearing a hardhat. I was pretty sure he hadn’t put that thing on years, which meant it was a hardhat with a purpose. I’d been yelling at him for two weeks straight—and he was definitely trying to remind me of the day we’d met so I’d remember why I loved him. It was working. The girls in the room were practically puddles of drool as they watched Manning stomp through the living room. My insides tightened with a sudden need to drag my husband into our bedroom. Or throw him down on the couch here, everyone else be damned. Had I always had a thing for dirty construction men, or did it only apply to Manning?
It didn’t help that no matter my mood, or the last time Manning and I had been intimate, I’d been painfully aroused for months. Luckily, Manning had no qualms helping in that department, no matter how far along I was. Even though he regularly commented on my ‘glow,’ he was the radiant one. He couldn’t have been in a better mood lately.
For the most part, that was . . .
There was, I’d noticed, something on his mind. He’d started leaving our bed in the middle of the night again, but this time, it wasn’t to smoke—he’d quit the same day we’d gotten our pink lines. Now, he’d take his girl, Vega, on walks instead.
It wasn’t money. His company had been steadily growing each year—he’d never even had time to pursue contracting like he’d planned—and I’d paid off my student loans a while back. My practice had opened right as the town’s most popular vet had retired, giving me plenty of business.
All I could guess was that he was nervous about the birth, but he seemed fine whenever it came up. He’d read enough books on the subject that he could probably deliver the baby himself.
“Sorry, ladies,” Manning said on his way to the hallway thermostat, furrowing his brows at all of us as we stared. “Pretend I’m not here.”
Nobody looked away. Not even Val. She was not only my best friend, but she’d always hated Manning just a little bit. At the moment, she looked as if she were ready to ditch Corbin for him. We all followed him with our eyes until he’d disappeared into the hall.