Page 23 of Better Than Baby
nine
Aaron shuffledpaint 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 legon 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.”