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

eight

“Be prepared. No matter how we play this, we’re going to get it wrong.”

I poured ice into the cooler, straightening the bottles at the top before glancing up at my husband who was busy organizing a tray of condiments. “What do you mean?”

“Your mother will be upset that we didn’t tell her first. My mom will grill Lena till she’s bug-eyed and ready to run for the hills…

and somewhere in there, one of them will ask uncomfortable questions about the technicalities of making sure the baby she’s carrying is actually ours.

” He gasped and turned on his heels. “Oh, my God. Baby, Matty. Our baby. Look…I’ve got goose bumps again. ”

I stood and rubbed his arm, grinning like an idiot—which had pretty much been my default expression over the past two weeks. My friends and coworkers had given me curious looks. A few hadn’t bothered beating around the bush.

“Did we land a lucrative deal I don’t know about?” my partner, Trey, had asked yesterday after a tense conference call with one of our West Coast clients. “An hour after our meeting with that pompous Hollywood asshole, and you’re the only one smiling.”

I’d shrugged off his astute observation, though it had taken major self-control not to cave and blurt our news.

Trey and his husband had three kids, all through a surrogate and damn it, I had so many questions.

But Aaron and I had made a strict pact not to tell a soul until Lena hit the twelve-week mark, so it was best to let Trey think I’d had particularly amazing morning sex.

But today was the day. Lena was feeling great—no nausea, no dizziness. The doctor had cleared her for light exercise and encouraged her to get back to her normal routine. And there was no reason for us not to share our secret with the world. I couldn’t wait.

Personally, I wasn’t as concerned about our nosy moms. Yes, my mother had a tendency to pick at flaws or perceived slights.

And his mom—while a million times more chill than mine—liked to be in control.

She was a nurturer and a comforter…in the extreme.

If one of us wasn’t feeling well, it was just a matter of minutes before she delivered homemade soup.

The Mendezes lived in the area, so maybe that wasn’t a big deal.

However, that alone bugged my mother. She low key viewed Aaron’s family’s proximity as a threat.

She wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but it was sort of obvious and I had no doubt she’d want to insert herself once she knew we were expecting a baby.

She might even make noises about moving to Maryland. Oh…fuck.

I nibbled Aaron’s knuckles playfully, chuckling as he squirmed out of reach. “Everyone will be fine. Including my mom. We should probably warn Lena, though.”

“Definitely.” Aaron adjusted a mustard bottle by an inch and gave the yard a critical once-over.

It looked pretty freaking amazing if you asked me.

We’d added a firepit in the far corner with Adirondack chairs and fairy lights overhead.

We’d set up a badminton net on the other end, and if anyone was in the mood for bocce ball or croquet, we had that too.

Our built-in barbecue featured a mini bar area with stools so our guests could chat with the short-order cook—that was me, by the way—and eat their meals while watching whatever shenanigans were taking place on the lawn.

Aaron had decorated two long tables with huge vases filled with sunflowers on the deck near the sliding door off the kitchen for buffet-style service. There were two picnic tables on the grass too. Plenty of seating and lots of entertainment options.

Renovating our house and yard till everything was just as we’d envisioned hadn’t always gone smoothly, but it had been worth the time and expense.

Now Murphy had a safe space to run and someday soon, our kid would be out here too—chasing the dog’s tail or blowing bubbles or—okay, my face hurt from the extra goofy smile I couldn’t contain to save my life.

Aaron, on the other hand, seemed anxious.

“Are you okay?” I tipped his chin and brushed my thumb over his bottom lip.

“I have butterflies in my stomach. It’s a big step to let everyone in on this.” His gaze wandered to Murphy, who was busily chomping on the toy bone we’d given him to keep him distracted.

“I know.”

“And it’s the tip of the iceberg. They’ll want to know if we’re finding out what we’re having, what names we like, who’s hosting the baby shower, what the nursery fêng shui will be. We don’t know these things yet.”

“So that’s what we’ll say.” I rested my forehead on Aaron’s and kissed his nose. “Everyone who’ll be here is rooting for us. They just think they’re meeting Murphy.”

He grinned, wrapping an arm around my waist as he turned to watch the dog, cooing, “Our sweetest little baby cutie monkey pie.”

“For the record, Murphy is not a cutie monkey pie. Also…if anyone questions our nursery fungs sway, you send them my way.”

Aaron barked a laugh. “I’ll do that.”

The barbecue was in full swing. An old Santana song drifted from the speakers, barely audible under the cacophony of multiple conversations and the good-natured ribbing from the competitive badminton game underway.

I flipped burgers and grilled chicken while sipping a beer, absently nodding along to an intense debate about waterslides between Jay, Curt, and my neighbor, Todd.

I had zero opinions on the topic, and I was more interested in watching the kids throw balls for Murphy, giggling at his puppy antics.

I spotted my parents chatting with my partner at the firm, Trey, and his husband.

Aaron and his mom were milling near the table with a few cousins.

Jack, Peter, and Jason were playing badminton with Aaron’s brother and Todd’s wife, Jess, and their kids, Billy and Katie.

There were probably thirty or more people here, which was a smallish gathering by our standards.

Our parties tended to be a mishmash of our favorite folks from every part of our lives.

Sometimes, it struck me as strange that my neighbors were buddies with my secretary, Colleen, and her husband, and that they all loved my law school pals and Aaron’s fashion industry friends.

Our world had become an interesting and diverse tapestry. We were lucky, and we knew it.

“Matt, you’re burning your buns,” Jay warned in his soft Southern twang.

“Uh…oh!” I jolted, rescuing the charred hamburger bun and tossing it onto a nearby plate. “Shit. I mean…shoot.”

Jay chuckled. “You’re safe. No impressionable ears over here.

Did I tell y’all that I stubbed my toe the other day and uttered a stream of most unfortunate words, mostly beginning with the letter F?

Fifteen minutes later, I heard Hols humming, ‘Fuckity, fuckity, fuck’ as she struggled to fasten the Velcro on her adorable patent leather princess shoes.

Mortifying! I forget I have two little parrots sometimes.

And by the way, I don’t think you need to make any more burgers. It looks like everyone has eaten.”

He was right. Aaron was putting salads away and organizing desserts while my mom hovered nearby, chatting with…Lena.

Oh. Cool. She made it.

Our special guest ended up having to cover for another instructor this afternoon and had called to let us know she’d be late.

No problem, except it sort of threw off our schedule.

We were going to make our announcement early and let the party go from there, but she’d evidently just arrived and was now talking to my mother, who had no idea that the pretty brunet in a flowy floral sundress was our surrogate.

I could practically sense the third degree in progress. Not good.

I turned off the grill, took a fortifying sip of lukewarm beer, and marched toward the deck.

“Hey, Mom. I see you’ve met Lena.”

My mother gave me a look that would have required a code to decipher.

“I have. Aaron introduced her as a ‘special friend of yours.’”

“That’s very true.” I grinned and impulsively drew Lena in for a sideways hug.

Mom arched her brows. “I see. Do you know each other from work?”

Lena shook her head. “No, I’m a yoga instructor. Matt and Aaron have taken a few of my classes. Not recently, though.”

“We’ve been a little preoccupied, but we’ll be back at it.”

“Sooner rather than later would be ideal,” Lena said with a conspiratorial wink.

I chuckled, my mind instantly catapulting to three or four months from now. Lena would have a baby bump and she might feel the baby kicking and geez…we’d know if we were having a boy or a girl and?—

“Matthew, are you all right?”

I snapped out of my daydream, squeezing Lena’s arm before stepping aside. “Yes, I’m fine. Hey, my mom does yoga too. She’s been doing it for years.”

“Oh, wow, that’s great,” Lena enthused.

It was, and as an avid tennis player, golfer, and health nut, fitness was one of my mother’s favorite topics.

I silently applauded my genius. Mom might not realize it yet, but she was going to want to know every little detail of Lena’s routine and she’d approve of her fitness-forward lifestyle.

This would give them something to bond over… in addition to the baby.

Shit , I was smiling again.

My mother wasn’t. She studied Lena like a lioness sharpening her claws and asked, “Do you have a boyfriend or significant other?”

What the fuck?

“Mom!”

“I’m just curious,” she replied evenly.

Lena was unfazed. “No, I’m not really in the market right now.”

“Ah.” Mom’s errant hum was tinged with a trace of venom as she tucked her short blond hair behind her ears. “Matthew, honey, I think this is the first time you’ve stepped away from your barbecue all day. Did you eat? Aaron put the potato and pasta salad away. Let’s grab you a plate…inside.”

And yes, I caught the tone, but her mood shift was strange. She’d been fine a couple of hours ago. How could Lena have pissed her off? She was too sweet and too perceptive. She wouldn’t have messed with my mother.