“Yeah, Ian showed me,” I replied. I desperately hoped my mom didn’t want to run me through a second tour of the Lonely Andy photo series.
“I like this one quite a bit,” she said, and held the tablet out toward me.
I accepted it gingerly, bracing myself as I looked down at the screen. It was me, all right, but I wasn’t scarfing canapes in a corner with a bad case of the meat sweats. The photo was from the ceremony, while I still looked crisp and put-together, arms linked with one of Sam’s bridesmaids, Josie Walsh, as we walked down the aisle together.
“You clean up pretty good,” Mom said fondly.
I passed the tablet back to her and she gave it one last affectionate glance before she handed it back to Ian. “I kind of do, yeah,” I agreed. “Once you clean the construction dust and paint stains off of me.”
“I like the paint stains. Shows that you’re a hard worker,” my mom said before she turned to Annie on her other side. “Josie looks nice, too. Remind me again, Annie—where does Josie fall in the birth order?”
“Second youngest,” Annie replied, swallowing a mouthful of wine. “She’s six minutes younger than her twin, John. It’s Patrick, Moira, me, John, Josie, then Ryan.”
“I love that you come from a big family,” Mom said as she smiled and pushed her wild curls away from her face.
The same dark spirals that my sister Frankie inherited, and her daughter, too, if the wispy coils that sprouted from her little baby head were any indication. I looked across the table, where Frankie and Clive both leaned close to Elizabeth’s highchair and cooed nonsense to her.
A few seats down, Nicky coughed loudly to get everyone’s attention, and I looked over at him in time to see him wind an arm around Kresley’s shoulders and pull her in close.
“Ah, so,” he started, his voice shaking slightly with uncharacteristic nervousness. “Before we eat, Kresley and I, um, wanted to ask what everybody’s up to around Thanksgiving.”
“I imagine we’ll be here,” Mom said with a shrug. “Long way off, though. Why?”
“That’s when the baby’s due,” Kresley blurted out, then smiled widely at all of us as her cheeks pinked.
A split second of silence followed, so thick and quiet that we could have heard a pin drop, and then the table exploded into cacophony of shouts and laughs. My mom burst out of her chair to hug Kresley first, and then Nicky, whose eyes looked suspiciously watery as he wound a gentle arm around Kresley’s waist. A waist that, come to think of it, did look just a little thicker than it had at Ian and Sam’s wedding.
It took a while—a long while—to get through the hugs and cheek kisses and more hugs and back-slapping, but finally, several minutes later, we settled back into our chairs and passed around the platters of now-lukewarm food.
“More babies,” my dad said happily as he plopped a steak onto his plate and handed the platter off to Ian. “You can never have enough. Who’s next after Nicky and Kresley?”
“Not me,” Frankie said mildly and spooned a bite of baby food into Elizabeth’s waiting mouth. “Maybe once this one sleeps through the night.”
“So, about six years,” Dad said, cutting into his meat. “Maybe Ian and Sam can step up.”
Ian rolled his eyes and next to him, Sam’s lovely face, already prone to blushing, turned beet red. “Dad, we just got married. Maybe give us time to put away all the wedding gifts first.”
“Can’t blame me for trying,” he replied with a shrug. “I have to cut George and Annie a break because they aren’t married yet, and it’s not like Andy’s in any danger of giving me more grandchildren right now.”
I winced. “Ouch, Dad.” True enough, but it still stung. Like my father compared me to my perfect siblings and I came up short.
“What?” Dad blinked obliviously. “You have plenty of time. You’re just single and enjoying your life.”
“I wouldn’t say he’s enjoying it,” George remarked, his tone dry. “All he does is work lately.”
“Business is good,” I argued. “You can’t blame me for taking advantage of demand. Lots of people want work done on their houses right now.”
“Of course I don’t blame you for staying busy,” Dad replied. “I like that you’re a hard worker. But work will never make you as happy as a life and a family, and if you don’t make the time to figure those things out, the opportunity might pass you by.”
“Dad.” Frankie’s sharp voice cut through the chatter. “He’s only twenty-eight. Nothing’s passing him by right now.”
My dad threw up his hands defensively. “I know that. I just want to see him happy and settled like the rest of you.”
Frankie rolled her eyes and turned to Kresley. “Anyway, have you started to think of names yet?”
The topic change worked. My father didn’t miss a beat before he jumped in to suggest a long series of Greek family names while Kresley nodded politely and Nicky rolled his eyes. I just slumped into my seat and sawed at my steak, allowing myself at least a few moments to wallow in some uncharacteristic self-pity while the conversation flowed around me, most of it about the new baby.
And none of it, thankfully, about me and my inability to maintain a relationship or reproduce.