Page 39 of Tied up in Knots (Gummy Bear Orgy #4)

I didn’t swoon

I was a little wary of having a baby shower.

I didn’t even want to have one originally, but Izzy convinced me to.

She said I would regret it if I didn’t, plus she promised there would be presents.

Many of which will be things I need for the baby.

Like onesies, diapers, baby shampoo, burp rags, and peepee teepees.

Something I learned will be necessary when having a boy to avoid getting peed on while changing diapers.

Having Warren by my side the entire time has been helpful, easing me into conversations and gently directing people away when I need a moment to rest. People eye his button clearly labeling him as Daddy, but few have commented on it so far. A few quirk a brow, others just grin.

It’s nice to have it out there for everyone to see.

Keeping it a secret has been agonizing. Far too much work than it’s worth, especially now that he’s back.

Not once since he’s returned has he mentioned missing the sea or how much he hates Homer.

For the first time in our long friendship, he seems happy with exactly where he is.

Which makes me happy, because he’s here with me.

Izzy did indeed invite a few more people than we originally planned, not too many more thankfully.

I don’t want the entire town here, just friends and the little family we have.

I knew Warren’s parents wouldn’t be invited and he has no other family to speak of in town.

Gigi is my only blood relative, which is why I cried when Izzy and Owen proclaimed themselves aunt and uncle.

They’re the closest thing to family we have, and our son will most definitely be calling them Auntie Izzy and Uncle Owen.

There are others here too, a few friends from school we still keep in touch with, Lauren from the store and of course Mrs. Niedermeyer who is more than ecstatic to be out of the house and socializing.

“So, you’re the father then?” Mrs. Niedermeyer asks Warren as we stand near the refreshment table, one of my preferred places in the house at the moment. I think I’ve been continuously eating since we arrived.

“Yes, I am,” he answers proudly and a little sharply.

“That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you two, and that the little fella will have a daddy to look up to. Though I suppose you might want to refrain from telling stories of your youth. Don’t think those would be proper,” she says lightheartedly with a smile and conspiratorial wink.

Mrs. Niedermeyer can talk way too much and always somehow knows everybody’s business, but she’s a nice lady and I appreciate that she doesn’t ask why I lied about who the father was.

“I don’t know, some of my stories might be okay,” Warren jokes as they ease into a conversation about adolescent pranks and what is acceptable and not.

“Tee-peeing a house with toilet paper is harmless fun. You couldn’t blame him for something that’s basically a rite of passage,” Warren argues.

“Perhaps. But I draw the line at egging and slashing tires. There’s no need to waste perfectly good eggs and tires are expensive to replace,” Mrs. Niedermeyer quips.

“What about you Bambi? Where do you draw the line? Is everything off limits because they’re all illegal?”

I consider Warren’s question and knowing smirk, giving him a cheeky smile in return.

“While I don’t condone any illegal actions…I suppose tee-peeing is acceptable.”

Warren’s smile widens and his eyes glint with mischief. “So, you’re saying when our son gets caught tee-peeing a house you won’t punish him or scold him?”

“I never said that. Just that it will be a minimal punishment, and we might laugh about it after a conversation about not doing anything worse, like egging or slashing tires.”

I eye Mrs. Niedermeyer whose lips twitch with amusement. Warren chuckles and wraps an arm around my back pressing a kiss to my hair.

“Very well, if you say so,” he concedes. “As long as I don’t get punished for teaching him how to properly tee-pee a house.”

I elbow him in the ribs which only makes him laugh more. He leans in to speak directly into my ear so Mrs. Niedermeyer doesn’t hear. “That is unless you want to punish me. I might like it.”

My face flushes and I try to conceal it by slowly sipping from my glass of iced tea. Mrs. Niedermeyer doesn’t notice my blush thankfully and continues rambling on about the mischief her boys got into as children, making me laugh and take mental notes on what to expect from an active boy.

The rest of the party goes about the same.

We play a few games throughout the day, people collecting clothes pins as they catch others crossing their legs, guessing the flavor of baby food, how many cookies are in the cookie jar.

One of my favorites is drawing on white onesies with the fabric markers.

Warren’s is ridiculously amazing and mine looks like the baby drew it.

Once most of the games are played, they make me sit in the “throne” and open presents while everyone watches. Some are practical and I am thankful Izzy made me do this because some of those things I wouldn’t have even thought of. Like the peepee teepees which we get plenty of.

Others are more personal like the handmade baby afghan Mrs. Niedermeyer made and a wood carving of the name we’d settled on, Noah, from Izzy that’s painted with fish and boats and deer. I think we may have found the theme for his room. Whenever we make his room.

So far the spare room in my apartment has a few pieces of furniture, a handful of baby clothes and supplies I’ve accumulated.

Still haven’t been able to find the perfect crib and I won’t settle for a subpar substitute.

So, all we have right now is a playpen until I find the right one.

I’m hoping my trip to Anchorage with Izzy next week will produce the perfect crib. I am running out of time after all.

But we haven’t decorated or painted it. I don’t know why I haven’t done any of that yet, nothing felt right, I guess.

So, I just left it. Not like he’s going to know the difference until he’s older anyway.

By then he’ll be able to choose his own décor.

But I like the nature and animals on the wooden name, it suits us.

Warren graciously collects bows and ribbons to make the customary ribbon hat and wears it around like a damn show pony. The pastel colors and glitter clash with his tattoos and dark hair. He doesn’t seem to care and doesn’t remove it till almost everyone has left.

“I think that went pretty well,” Izzy says as she flops down on the couch next to me.

I vacated the throne of honor as soon as possible, not liking all that attention, and made myself comfortable in my favorite spot on the couch.

“I think it went wonderfully Izzy,” Gigi takes her spot in her armchair next to the couch and smiles at my best friend and cradles a cup of hot tea between her hands. “You did a great job putting everything together. I couldn’t have done that all on my own.”

“Ugh, but now we have to clean up,” Izzy groans and flops her head back on the couch cushion.

With an unenthusiastic grunt and groan, Izzy begins to push herself up with great effort, but her brother stops her with a hand to her shoulder. She falls back, easily giving up her attempt to rise.

“Don’t worry about it sis, me and Warren are on clean-up duty.”

Warren stands next to Owen, a black trash bag in hand and already picking up discarded napkins and emptying plate remnants into the bag, his Daddy button still firmly affixed to his dark grey henley.

“Yeah, we’ve got this. You three just relax and chat. If you need anything let us know,” he adds, smiling as he continues to clean.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so happy to be cleaning.

If I recall correctly, they were the ones who ran off after throwing a party at Owen’s house while his parents were away, leaving me and Izzy to clean the mess before they got home.

I think Izzy is remembering the same event too because she lifts an eyebrow in her brother’s direction and glares unbelieving at them.

But they don’t say anything else and get to picking up trash and putting away dirty dishes.

“Thank you boys, that’s sweet of you to offer. I might act like I’m twenty years younger, but my bones and joints know I’m not.” Gigi chuckles and rubs at a knee. “I’ll be soaking in a hot bath tonight.”

“Me too. My feet feel like they’ve been stung by a million bees.” I kick off my slip-ons dramatically, one flying halfway across the room.

Warren turns to stare at the place where it lands and makes a soft thud. The look on his face has all three of us laughing as he sardonically stretches out a foot and kicks it back towards me.

“I’ll run you a bath when we get home,” he offers without a second thought.

I think today was more for him than it was for me.

He is literally wearing the title of Daddy as a badge of honor.

He’s excited to become a father and wants everyone to know.

Unlike me, I didn’t want anyone to know about the pregnancy at all.

I even lied about how I got pregnant to my best friend.

Warren always was the more social one, the outgoing and extroverted one.

I’d be happy to remain in my bookstore with all my stories, a crackling fire in my stove wrapped in a blanket with a jar of pickles and nothing more.

Though now there’s something new in my daydream, Warren at my side wrapping me in his arms and a smiling baby boy playing on the floor.

Owen and Warren make their way to the kitchen and dining room packaging up leftovers and disposing of empty food containers, enough out of earshot that they can’t hear what we’re talking about.

“So how are things going with Warren, Rae?”