Page 11 of Better Than Baby (Better Than Stories #9)

nine

Aaron shuffled paint and fabric swatches on the kitchen island. “I think a soft green would be nice in the nursery.”

“Eucalyptus?”

He widened his eyes in surprise. “You remembered!”

“How could I ever forget? Eucalyptus paint, eucalyptus towels. Every weekend spent in that tiny little bathroom in our condo trying to get the color to your exact specifications.” I massaged his shoulders and leaned in to examine the array of pastel-hued samples.

“I thought we were waiting a couple of months to do the nursery.”

“We are. I won’t tempt fate for us.”

I wanted to scoff and assure him that we had nothing to worry about, but we both knew it might not be true. “So what’s all this?”

He glanced at Murphy nibbling on a chew toy under the table in the breakfast nook, probably to make sure he hadn’t started eating the rug instead.

Our adorable puppy had ratcheted up his mischievousness by a few levels over the past month.

Nothing was sacred—shoes, socks, books, furniture.

He’d gnawed the leg on the coffee table in the great room, punctured a basketball and two garden hoses, and stole tomatoes off the vine on the regular.

We now referred to him as Murph the Menace while grinning at him like lovesick idiots.

Yeah, we’d become those dog people. We coddled him, spoke to him in gooey adoring tones, and laughed at all his antics.

Problem…now that he was getting bigger, some of his antics weren’t so cute anymore.

Like jumping on the sofa or on our guests in greeting or not listening when we called his name.

That last one happened all the damn time.

“Ah, Murphy is giving you the perfect glimpse into parenthood,” Mom had teased.

Maybe so, but we knew we had to get a handle on some of his bad habits. Our training session was scheduled for this morning at the park. Aaron had set the appointment, so I was surprised he wasn’t herding us out of the house instead of daydreaming about nursery color schemes.

He peeked at his watch, then gathered the bits of material into a neat pile with his head bent.

“This is me being bad. I couldn’t help it.

I absolutely refuse to buy any baby clothes—not even the adorable teddy bear onesie I saw at that new boutique on Larchmont.

But I’m weak! And ever since your mother claimed that pinks and blue were the only real options unless we were going down a dreadful yellow path, I took it as a challenge.

I can’t help it. We have months to go and this probably isn’t healthy, but I think about this unborn baby nonstop.

Do you do that, or is it just me being neurotic and obsessive? ”

I pulled him away from the island and lifted his chin. “It’s not just you. I think about him all the time too and?—”

“Him? Do you think we’re having a boy? I’m getting girl vibes. Not that I care. I’m serious about that. I’m just praying for a healthy bundle of baby joy.” Aaron frowned. “Do you have a preference?”

“No, I feel the same way you do. Boy or girl…doesn’t matter to me.”

“I didn’t think so.” But the crease in his brow indicated that he was still mulling over something.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” I snaked an arm around his waist and kissed his forehead.

“I don’t want to tell you. It’s…dumb.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Aaron inhaled deeply. “This is our baby, and that’s the important thing. I will love this child so much it’s silly, but I kind of sort of hope your DNA made it to the egg first.”

Okay, I hadn’t expected that. “Why?”

“Well, you’re brilliant and handsome and athletic and…” He circled his hand meaningfully, adding, “tall.”

“As opposed to?”

“Smart enough, mostly hot…although aging at a rapid pace. I cannot believe I used to lament turning thirty. Now the big four-oh is coming for me, and I’m worried there isn’t enough face cream to handle the fallout.

In the plus column, I’m a fabulous dancer and cook, but I’m vertically challenged, emotional, and I have a short fuse.

And really…can you imagine two of me?” He shuddered theatrically. “It sounds terrifying.”

I laughed. “Sounds amazing to me.”

“You have to say that. It’s like a marriage law or something.”

“Oh, yeah? Funny enough, I mean it. I haven’t thought about the DNA part of this.

It means less than nothing to me. This kid is ours.

Mine and yours. I’d love a little girl with pretty hazel eyes or a little boy with dark hair who’s full of mischief as much as I’d love one who reminded me of my cool Uncle Ed.

This has never been about bringing a mini me into the world. This is…an extension of us.”

Aaron beamed. “That’s romantic, Matty.”

“You think so? ’Cause that sounded super cheesy to me.”

He waggled his brows playfully. “I like cheese.”

I scratched my nape and pulled a face. I could write page after page of dry and boring yet perfectly concise verbiage for a contract that would hold up for decades, but sharing my feelings wasn’t easy.

Thankfully, Murphy saved me from a second attempt at explaining my Hallmark-cringeworthy thoughts on parenthood.

He raced to the screen door and jumped on the glass, barking his head off at the squirrel perched on the deck railing outside.

“Yeah, well, Murphy doesn’t like schmaltz, and he desperately needs to learn some manners. Let’s go to the park, shall we?”

Our dog whisperer was a serious middle-aged man with thinning hair and thick glasses who’d been highly recommended by a neighbor.

Their German shepherd mix had gone from a hooligan to a well-mannered gentleman within two months of beginning regular training sessions.

Sadly, I had a feeling it was going to take Murph a little longer than that.

“The key is incentive and praise,” Victor explained. “Handing out treats might seem like bribery, but it works. Use a firm but kind tone.”

“No problem. C’mere, Murph.” I drew him to my left, walked a few steps, then tugged his leash. “Heel.”

“Don’t pull his leash. You want him to listen to your words rather than be physically guided.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” I tried again, moving from the large elm throwing shade across the playground equipment and the surrounding pathway. “Murphy, come. Good boy. Stay…I mean…heel.”

Murphy didn’t heel. Not even close. In fact, he nearly choked himself in a quest to chase after a crow, a hummingbird, and a dragonfly.

Under Victor’s disapproving gaze, I yanked the leash to slow Murphy’s stride without dislocating my shoulder.

It worked. He sat, tongue lolling to the side as he stared up at me expectantly.

“Should he give Murphy a treat now?” Aaron asked.

“It couldn’t hurt. However…” Victor skewered us with a serious once-over. “He will not learn if you’re inconsistent with your words and actions. Perhaps it would be wise to stick to basic commands for now and work our way up. Sit, down, stay. Sit, down, stay.”

“Why does thirty minutes of dog training feel like thirty hours?” I grumbled as soon as we’d said good-bye to Victor.

“No idea. It’s excruciating. Is it me, or is Murphy failing pup school?” Aaron lamented.

“Yeah, and I think that’s an us problem.”

“Are we terrible dog parents? My high opinion of us takes a hit after these sessions. I wonder if…” He trailed off, lowering his sunglasses to study something over my shoulder.

I turned to follow his gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“That girl has her eye on us. She’s been staring for a while.”

“We have a cute dog, Aar. Puppies are babe magnets.”

Aaron smacked my arm and huffed. “Ew. I hope not.”

I snort-laughed. “Guys can be babes. And don’t tell me you haven’t been stopped by some cute guy or girl while you’ve been out with Murph.”

“Okay, you got me. There’s a cougar on Poppy Lane who really likes me. She stops whatever she’s doing to pet Murphy and chat and…” He pulled his sunglasses off, his full lips pursed in confusion. “Matty, we know her.”

“Huh?” I frowned.

I couldn’t place the tall blond at first, and when I did, my heart sank.

Almost a year had gone by.

Last December, she’d been round-faced with a swollen belly and a quick smile.

Now, her shapeless black sundress overwhelmed her painfully thin physique and made her arms look like twigs.

Last year, Aaron had commented that her razor-sharp cheekbones would be the envy of a runway model.

Now, they only added to her gaunt appearance.

Cassie.

The Georgetown student we’d spent months getting to know last year.

The young woman whose hand we’d held through doctor appointments.

The one who’d laughingly told us she’d be knee-deep in textbooks while we were knee-deep in dirty diapers.

The one who’d sobbed helplessly as the parents of her unborn child’s biological father took over her life and her plans, relegating us to hapless bystanders.

Christ, we’d finally begun moving past the hurt and devastation. Why was she here now? She lived a good forty-five minutes from our corner of Maryland. This couldn’t be a chance encounter.

I grabbed Aaron’s arm. “Hey, why don’t you take Murphy to the car, and I’ll see what she wants.”

He cocked his chin in surprise and reached for my hand. “I’m all right, Matty. So are you. If she’s come all this way, there must be a reason. C’mon.”

Murphy led the way, enthusiastically galloping toward someone he’d never met and greeting her like a long lost friend.

Cassie smiled tentatively as she bent to pet Murphy. “Hi, there. Aren’t you a handsome boy?”

Murphy immediately rolled onto his belly, paws up, tongue out, ready to accept more praise and affection. Cassie gave in, her dress puffing like a dark parachute around her as she kneeled on the grass.