Page 135 of Ruin The Friendship
She rubs my shoulders and points to the closet. “I think we have everything hung and organized we could for now, and Hattie and Zoey are putting all the onesies in the dresser drawers in order by size.”
Fletcher stands in the corner with a wide smile on his face as Calvin, Trigg, and Adam bicker over a new box that’s been brought in.
“What’s that?” I point to the box.
The three men go quiet, shifting so they’re in front of the box.
Fletcher moves forward, a shy expression on his face. “Remember the day we went and added a bunch of things to your registry?”
Nodding, I try to look around the men who are still blocking the box. “Yes, but I got all the things I added to the registry.”
He shakes his head. “You didn’t get the glider you wanted, because you weren’t sure it would fit.”
“Oh,” I breathe, my heart swelling. “You got me a glider?”
“Of course I did.” He pushes a curl from my face and kisses the tip of my nose. “I knew you’d never get it for yourself, or that you’d say you could just feed her on the couch, but you wanted it. And besides, it looks comfy as hell.”
“It really does.” I make a choked sound. “Fletcher, thank you. I love you.” I reach up on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck, twisting my fingers in his hair.
“I love you too, Lydi-bug.” Fletcher’s lips slant over mine as our friends hoot and holler around us.
When we break apart, Calvin is already tearing into the box like the chaos goblin he is. He pulls the back of the chair out, and I see that instead of the cream color they had in the store, Fletcher opted to get a pastel pink to match the nursery.
I clutch his arm. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s not even put together yet.” He laughs. “It could be horrible and not match at all.”
I shake my head. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
58
RUNNING THOUGHTS
FLETCHER
THIRTY-FIVE WEEKS PREGNANT
“Come on, Waffles!” I hit my hand on the outside of the boards as Shepherd skates toward the goal on a breakaway.
The crowd is on its feet, cheering him on.
He shoots, but the goalie catches it, and the crowd groans, dropping back into their seats. The whistle blows, and Waffles drops his head in a moment of defeat. He comes back to the boards, swapping out with Monroe.
I pat him on the head. “Hey, don’t sweat it.”
He nods, but I can tell he’s beating himself up.
Play resumes on the ice, with Calvin winning the face-off. This is the last game before we head to the playoffs, and if we win this, we get home-ice advantage for the first two games.
I, for one, hope we get that advantage. I’m feeling antsy after Lydia’s thirty-five-week appointment this afternoon. The doctor anticipates Lydia going into labor early based on how the baby is positioned or something. To be honest, Iwasn’t really listening after she said there was a potential the baby could come early. There’s still so much to do, and my mom isn’t coming up for another three weeks. I was making lists and plans in my head for the rest of the appointment. Lydia’s totally chill about everything, but I couldn’t be more anxious.
The thought of missing the birth of our daughter is too hard to bear. Not only that, but add in the stress of the playoffs, and I’m on a hair-trigger. The car seat bases are installed in both of our vehicles, and Lydia is packing her hospital bag at home as we speak. We’re as ready as we possibly can be, but there’s a niggling voice in my head telling me I need to prep for every possibility.
And one of those possibilities is that I could be halfway across the country when Lydia goes into labor.
If that happens, I’ll have to rely on Grace, Zoey, and Hattie to be there for her until I can. And if my mom is here by then, she’ll have to be the one to take care of her.
For now, the more time I can spend at home, the better.
