Page 80 of Size King

After my nails are perfect once again, we go to the store across from the salon to grab some prenatal vitamins that my doctor has prescribed for me. We look around, and I get a few other groceries for my apartment, and then we move on.

We go to the bookstore a few shops down and casually stroll through, looking at books, never lingering on an aisle for too long. I am lucky that we happen to be there because I am able to run and use their bathroom. I throw up a bit, feeling queasy as I hover over the toilet. I want to blame the breakfast Mason made, but somehow, I know I’m not sick from food poisoning.

When I return back out to the massive collection of books, I come across Mason reading “A thru Z: Baby Names For All.” He turns to look at me and smiles, holding up the book and raising his eyebrows.

“How can you be so perfect all the time?” I ask him.

“I’m not perfect,” he replies. “But thanks. Want to browse through names?”

“Read off a few you like, and I’ll read off some I like,” I propose.

“Sounds like fun.”

I’m not sure how long my good feeling will last, but I don’t expect it to go on forever. I want to keep trying with Mason, see where things go, and hopefully, he will help me make decisions to birth a nice, healthy baby.

But as we browse through the lists of baby names, I can’t help but wonder when it will end and I will return to reality. I never imagined getting into the situation I am in, and I feel sure that the catch is coming, and I will be knocked back to where I belong.

I look up into his ocean-blue eyes while they scan the pages of the baby book. I hope that our child will get his eyes and nose.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“I like that you’re interested in this,” I answer. “I’m grateful that you even want to be involved, let alone go with me to get vitamins and look at baby names! Really, I’m so glad that you’re here. I can’t go to my parents about any of this. They’re far too self-involved and oblivious to be of any help to me. Once I got away from them, I swore I’d never go back, you know?”

“I meant, what were you thinking were some good baby names.”

“Oh.”

We laugh, and I blush like a strawberry, wishing I could turn back time and stop from rambling.

“I get what you’re saying,” he says. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

“You know, it’s weird,” I continue to ramble. “Think about it. The way we’re huddled together here, allthreeof us, it’s like a little family! I think it’s all really sweet, and I didn’t think it was possible to feel this good after knowing our lives are going to be changed so drastically forever.”

He smiles and turns to the next page in the book. We are in baby girl names, and none of them catch my eye.

“Sorry, I’m probably scaring you, right?” I ask.

“Not at all,” says Mason. “Believe it or not, I’m more sentimental and sappy than your average guy usually is.”

“I believe it.”

“I’ve always wanted a family of my own,” he tells me. “My parents didn’t get along much when they were married. My mom died when I was still in high school.”

“Wait, what?” I ask. “I thought your parents got divorced.”

“They did get divorced.” He nods. “Then my dad remarried, and then my mom got cancer and died shortly after the divorce, less than a year after she got the diagnosis. I really wish my mom was alive so I could talk to her about what’s going on. She was always a great listener and gave good advice. She was a real mom. She would’ve loved to meet her grandkid.”

I feel like touching him sympathetically to let him know I am still here, but I don’t want to seem cliché.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say.

“It’s fine,” he proceeds. “Anyway, with her gone and my dad basically gone—I’m not close to him, my stepmom, or my stepsister at all—I don’t have a family. I have some great friends, and Luke is basically my brother from another mother. It’s not the same, having friends and having a family. In a way, I almost feel like I never really had a family—a real one, at any rate. So, I’ve always wanted one of my own.”

That time, I smile and flip the page in the baby book while he looks down into my eyes.

“Sorry, now I’m rambling,” he says, embarrassed.

“No, you’re not,” I say. “I like hearing you talk. Have you actually always wanted kids? I’ve never really wanted kids, so this has all been a pretty huge slap in the face.”