Page 30

HOLT

Glancing down, she spins the ring on her finger again, watching the light bounce off the diamonds and rubies.

“You keep looking down at that thing and you’re gonna get a crick in your neck.”

Her lips curve into a sly smile. “If you didn’t want me looking at it, you wouldn’t have gotten it so big.”

Propping my hands on my hips, I glance down at my crotch. “Well, if you like looking at big things…”

Laughing, she snorts and tosses the instructions for the crib assembly at me. “ That doesn’t shine as much as this,” she says, wiggling her finger at me.

“True,” I concede. “And I have to say, it was pretty damn funny when you flashed that big ol’ ring to the nurse last night.”

Merit immediately scrunches her nose. “She shouldn’t have been hitting on you.”

She’s so freakin’ funny.

“She was asking for an autograph and a penny for her little cousin. I don’t really think she was trying to get in my pants.”

Her eyes widen, and her face grows serious. “Trust me, she was. That look she was giving you? Like she wanted to eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner? I know that look.”

“You do? And just how do you know that look?”

Bright pink blushes across her cheeks. “Because it’s the look I’ve given you since the day we met.”

She’s right. And I love it.

I finish tightening the last screw and shake the crib, making sure it’s stable. After last weekend and our engagement, Merit finally agreed that we could start buying baby stuff and set up the nursery.

In our house. For our life. Together.

It’s been a whirlwind of a week. Unable to control our excitement, we went to the store Monday night after school and football practice and bought all new furniture and decorations. Even though the bedroom for Anna, Laura, and Ty is bigger, Merit refuses to displace them, so Daire will have the bedroom next to that, right across the hall from our room.

And last night was the first part of our Baby Class at the hospital. Who knew you needed to take a class to have a baby. I mean, really? Would the hospital actually turn us away if we showed up without the proper credentials? The class runs in a two-part session—Friday night and Saturday afternoon. We had to do this weekend because it’s my only bye-week; we didn’t have a game last night.

Not to mention, tonight is our baby shower.

And so much more. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I glance at my watch. “We should get ready. Class starts in an hour.”

Her frown is almost comical. “Yeah.”

Something’s been bothering her since last night, and she hasn’t told me what. At first, I thought it was the nurse thing, but this is something different. Something more.

“You plan on telling me what’s wrong? What’s been bothering you?”

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

“Don’t lie, Merit.”

“Mmmm?”

“Something’s clearly wrong. It’s written all over your face.”

She rocks back and forth in the new glider, pretending to pick at something on the fabric.

“Tell me the truth.”

Growling under her breath, she slaps the arm of the rocker. “That class made me mad. I don’t wanna go back.”

Well, this should be interesting.

“Why did the class make you mad?”

“I don’t like that instructor. I don’t think she knows what’s she’s talking about.”

I try to bite back a smile. “You don’t think she knows what she’s talking about? She’s been a labor and delivery nurse for twenty-five years.”

“So?”

I pull the matching foot stool in front of the glider and sit down in front of her. “What did she do? Did she say something to you?”

“Not to me. To the class. Didn’t you hear her? She said that when your water breaks it could be a big gush or a slow trickle.”

I lift an eyebrow, waiting for more. “Yeah?”

“A slow trickle?” Her voice hitches up in disbelief. And just in case I didn’t hear her, she leans forward and points a finger in my face. “A slow trickle.” She falls back in her seat. “Can you believe that?”

My hands glide across her black leggings. On Wednesday, she decided her legs were too big to wear shorts anymore. It’s ridiculous, really. She’s beautiful and gorgeous, and her legs look amazing. Just like always. Especially when they’re wrapped around me. Sliding my fingers under the hem of her shirt, I fiddle with the Velcro holding her maternity belt tight around her stomach. “Okay, but what’s wrong with that? That’s what the books say too.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “Well, just how in the world am I supposed to know if my water breaks? A small trickle! I pee on myself all the time. Like all the time. Every freakin’ day. What if my water breaks, and I don’t even know it. What if Daire comes out while I’m on the toilet peeing? Like one of those women you see on TV.”

Oh my gosh. This has to be one of the funniest conversations I’ve ever had.

And I can’t even laugh.

Trust me, I know better than to laugh at my pregnant, soon-to-be-wife who is this close to delivering our child.

“Merit, you don’t have to worry about that. That’s not going to happen. I’m sure you’ll be able to tell the difference between a pee trickle and a water-breaking trickle. You’ll feel it. You’ll know. I promise.”

She looks at me with wide eyes. Her green shirt brings out the swirls of green and brown. “You promise?”

I grab her neck and pull her into a kiss. “Yes, I promise. And if you don’t believe me, just ask the women. Your mom and granny are downstairs. And everyone else will be at the shower. I’m sure they will all tell you the same thing.”

Finally satisfied, she smiles. “Okay.”

A strand of hair falls from her ponytail, and I push it back. “Are you excited?” I ask, switching topics.

Her face instantly brightens. “I’m so excited. I wish Kyra was here now. But she should be here by the time we get back. I still can’t believe their original flight was canceled.”

Little does she know, Kyra and Toby, Kyra’s boyfriend, didn’t have a canceled flight. They got here on Thursday, just like planned.

And we’ve been lying to Merit this whole time.

Well, I didn’t lie to her face. I said I would never lie to her, and I meant it. Kyra, however? Kyra made no such promise and had no problems lying to her best friend. So, every time Merit’s said something about it over the past couple of days, I’ve just smiled and nodded. And quickly changed the subject.

Standing up, I give her a kiss on the forehead. “Go get ready. I’ll clean up here and meet you downstairs.”

As soon as she’s out of the room, I pull out my phone and do a group text to every woman in my life.

Holt: If Merit asks you, you need to tell her that you had a “gush” when your water broke and you immediately knew what happened. Please do not mention the word “trickle.” Ever.

***

“Where are we going?” she asks when I miss the turn.

“Just a quick errand.”

“An errand?” She glances at the clock on the dashboard. “But it’s nearly time for the shower to start. Kyra should already be there.” She looks down at her shirt and grimaces. “Plus, I have to change.”

During the delivery room and maternity ward tour, they tried to impart the wisdom of using hand sanitizer frequently. There’s a sanitizer machine outside of every room. Merit went to use one, and the whole front of it broke off and squirted sanitizer all over her face, in her eye, and down the front of her shirt. I have no idea how it happened. It was an automatic machine; she didn’t even have to touch anything. But in true Merit fashion, it happened. We had to spend the next ten minutes at an eye-washing station with a nurse rinsing Merit’s eye.

And Merit thought that nurse was hitting on me too.

And he was a dude.

“It won’t take long. And I promise it’ll be worth it.” When that doesn’t convince her, I say the words that Curious Merit can never ignore. “It’s a surprise.”

She studies my face. Seeing the unbridled excitement I can barely contain, she giggles and snorts. “Okay.”

Reaching behind her, I grab an extra T-shirt from the back seat. “Put this over your eyes.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Over my eyes?”

“Yeah, like a blindfold.”

“Like a blindfold?” she laughs. “Holt, what’s going on?”

I tickle her nose with the shirt. “Come on. Just do it.”

She sniffs it, inhaling deeply. “It smells like you.” I assume that’s a good thing because she twists it into a bandana shape and ties it around her head.

Her fingers tap against her thighs in anticipation. “Where are we going?”

“I told you it’s a surprise.”

“No hints?”

“No hints,” I say.

We drive for the next couple of minutes, and she jabbers the whole time, trying to get me to confess to what’s about to happen. The second I park and turn off the engine, she reaches to move her blindfold. “Are you ready?”

I pretend to slap her hand. “No, I’m not ready. I’ll tell you when I’m ready. Now, sit there. Don’t peek. I’ll be back in just a minute.” When she doesn’t say anything, I warn her. “Merit…”

“Okay. I won’t peek. I promise.”

Jumping from the truck, I race over, talking to everyone, making sure everything is ready to go. One of the signs is crooked, so Ridge rushes inside to fix it. Jogging back to the truck, I open the door and unbuckle her seat belt. Hauling her into my arms, I walk across the parking lot.

She squirms against my grasp. “Don’t carry me. I’m too big.”

“You’re not too big,” I say, adding a tickle to her ass for good measure, “and the last thing I need is for you to fall down because you’re trying to walk in a blindfold.”

She rubs her nose against my neck, sending her hot breath down my spine. “Then let me take the blindfold off.”

Stopping at the right spot, I set her on her feet, making sure she’s stable. “Okay. You can take it off.”

She doesn’t move.

“Mer?” I ask.

Her lip quivers. “I’m nervous. This surprise has me nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous.” I brush my fingers across the small of her back. “What can I do? What do you want?”

She holds out her right hand. “Hold my hand.”

I can’t help but think back to when I first met her. “You remember when we first met? You didn’t want me to hold your hand.”

“Of course, I wanted you to hold my hand. That’s what scared me the most.”

Wrapping my fingers with hers, she reaches up and rips off the blindfold.