That Baby: A Small Town, Friends-to-Lovers Romance (That Boy Series Book 3)

On Saturday, as we’re driving up to Omaha, Lori says, “I’m sorry I forgot your birthday. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me lately.”

“You’re pregnant,” I say. “It’s okay. I know you’ve had a really hard time with it.”

“I’m sorry I stomped out of your house, too.”

“It’s okay. Just relax and enjoy the baby shower today. You get to see all your friends.”

She smiles and pats her belly. “That will be nice. I’m so huge though.”

“Of course you are. You’re due in a few weeks. But you’re wearing a cute dress, and you’re glowing with impending motherhood.”

She nods. “Thanks, Jade.”

The shower is so much fun and a huge success. Everyone loved the location and setup, and Lori got some adorable keepsakes from it—not to mention, a boatload of gifts.

I arranged for Mrs. Mac to take Lori back to her house, saying that I had to run an errand.

I drive to the cemetery, stopping to get flowers on the way.

As I round the corner leading to their plot, I see there is a funeral just finishing up. People in black are wandering back to their cars, looking a little lost.

That makes me sad. Sad other people have died. Sad another family had to bury ones they loved. I say a silent prayer for them. A prayer hoping they will come to terms with it and find peace. A prayer hoping they don’t wait as long as I did to come back to the grave of their loved one.

I park as close as I can, grab the flowers and the other items I brought with me, and walk to their headstone.

Reading their names engraved in marble stops me in my tracks.

It probably always will. Maybe because it doesn’t seem like it could possibly be real.

It makes sense why they make headstones out of marble. It’s cold. Hard. Like death.

I didn’t tell Lori why I chose this date for her shower. I didn’t want to ruin her big day with the fact that today is my dad’s birthday, and I wanted to visit his grave.

But, now that I’m pregnant, it seems like the perfect day to tell them.

Like, in case they don’t already know.

I run my hand across the marker, my fingers tracing their names and then my dad’s birthdate.

“So, I know me coming here is unusual,” I say to the stone. “But today is a special day.” I set the flowers in the grass in front of the marker. “Happy birthday, Dad. And, although I can’t really give you a gift, I want to tell you something. Something I wish with all my heart that you and Mom were here for. Something I know you would be so excited about. I mean, you probably wouldn’t have jumped up and down like Mrs. Mac did, but I know you would have been super excited. I hope that, somehow, you still know what’s going on in my life. Know how often I think of you. Hear me when I talk to you. But, just in case you don’t”—I set the adorable pink-fuchsia-and-teal-striped rattle down next to the flowers—“I’m pregnant. Due on October the first. A fall football baby, who I’m going to teach how to hold its arms up in the air for TOUCHDOWN, just like you taught me.”

The tears that have been slowly trickling down my cheeks become more pronounced as I kneel on the ground.

“I have—I have a picture. I brought you a picture of the baby,” I sob, setting the ultrasound photo down next to the flowers.

A voice says, “Jadyn?”

I turn to see Pastor John dressed in a dark suit.

“Oh, hey, Pastor.”

He reads the stone. “Today would have been your dad’s birthday.”

“Yeah,” I say with a smile, standing up and wiping my tears. “Were you just at the funeral over there?”

“Yes, I officiated. It was a car accident. Father of three young children. Tragic.”

“Pastor, why does God let bad stuff happen? I know we all make choices, and I get freewill, but then that doesn’t make sense either. My parents didn’t choose to die. Bad things happen to good people. I don’t understand. I’m sure the people at the funeral you just did don’t understand either because it doesn’t make sense. And, honestly, it’s affected my faith.”

“Do you believe in an afterlife? Do you believe your parents are still with you?”

“Yes. But is that just because it’s comforting to me?”

“I thought you said you’d never come here. Is this your first time visiting?”

“No, I came here the night before Phillip and I had our last counseling session. Had a little meltdown.”

“I heard about the meltdown. Your mother-in-law thought you’d call off the wedding.”

“What did you think?”

“Honestly, I didn’t think you would. It’s pretty obvious that you and Phillip respect and love each other.”

“Do you think my parents know what’s going on with me? Like, if there is something special going on in my life, would they know?”

“I believe they see glimmers of us. I picture heaven like a veil. They can’t completely see the picture, but sometimes, they can make out images. I think love affects it.”

“I’m torn about the whole grave thing. I feel like they aren’t here, yet I still came to tell them the news.”

“And what news is that?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Pastor John beams. “Congratulations. How are you doing with that? I thought, during couples counseling, you’d mentioned wanting to wait for a few years.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes, our brain and our heart aren’t always on the same wavelength. Logically, there are a lot of reasons waiting would have been more practical.”

“And your heart?”

“It’s thrilled. We had an ultrasound. Would you like to see the picture?”

“Of course.”

I pull the photo out from under the flowers and hand it to him.

“Isn’t the creation of life a miracle?” Pastor John says, studying the ultrasound. “How far along are you?”

“I’ll be sixteen weeks on Monday.”

Pastor John smiles. “I bet Phillip is over the moon about it.”

“He is super excited.”

“How’s married life?”

“Mostly good.”

“What’s not good?”

“What’s the best way to deal with your mother-in-law?” I ask.

He chuckles. “I wish I knew the answer to that. I’ve been married for thirty years and given my mother-in-law three beautiful grandchildren, but I’m still convinced she doesn’t like me that much.”

“I love Phillip’s mother; don’t get me wrong. She’s made me feel like part of their family. But, lately, she’s said and done a few things that have made me feel like she thinks I’m not a good wife.”

“What does Phillip think? Does he think you’re a good wife?”

“Yes,” I answer, not saying any more because I think Mrs. Mac’s version of an ideal wife and Phillip’s are very different.

“Is she excited about the baby?”

“You should have seen when she found out. She was screaming and crying. But I’m worried I won’t do things right. Or the way she thinks I should.”

“Just remember, Jadyn, when she had her first baby, she didn’t know any more than you. My advice would be to respectfully listen to what she has to say, but ultimately, it’s up to you and Phillip how you raise your children. Things have changed since you were born. Lots of new technology. New theories on discipline. I have a parenting book that I highly recommend. I’ll send you a copy. It’s about raising confident children.”

“That would be nice. Does it have advice for dealing with in-laws, too?”

“It does. I use many of its techniques in dealing with everyone in my life.”

“What does it say to do when she buys you a gift that you hate?”

“In our household, gifts like that are prominently displayed only when my mother-in-law visits.”

“Interesting. One more question, and I’ll let you get going. What’s your take on gnomes?”

“They scare me.”

I laugh. “Yeah, me, too.”

As the pastor heads to his car, I slide the ultrasound photo back under the flowers, kiss my hand, and touch the headstone. “I love you guys.”

I stay there, watch the sun set, and then leave when it gets dark.

When I get to the Mackenzie house, I haul my tote bag up to Phillip’s room and then plop across his bed.

Me: I’m lying in your room. It’s weird, being here without you.

Mac Daddy Loves You: I miss you. Danny and Joey say they miss you, too.

Me: What are you guys doing?

Mac Daddy Loves You: We’re at the bar.

Me: I miss the bar.

Mac Daddy Loves You: Are you mad I’m out? We were supposed to just hang out at our house.

Me: No. Why should I be? Wait. Are you at a bar or a club? Oh gosh. You’re with Danny, and Lori is out of town. Tell me you’re not going to the strip club. Lori will be pissed!

Mac Daddy Loves You: Will you be pissed?

Me: No.

Mac Daddy Loves You: Lori is. But why? She’s never cared before.

Me: It’s different because she’s pregnant. She’s emotional, and she needs Danny’s support even if she’s acting a little crazy.

Mac Daddy Loves You: To be honest, I’m worried about their marriage.

Me: I am, too. Maybe it will be better once they have the baby. But, somehow, I don’t think the strip club is going to help the situation. I’m sort of surprised you’d take him.

Mac Daddy Loves You: I’m not so sure about that. Everything I’ve read says that a new baby is stressful on your marriage. If pregnancy is this bad, what’s that going to be like for them?

Me: I don’t know. Just be there for him.

Mac Daddy Loves You: Why do you think I’m going to the strip club? We were in the basement, playing pool, having a couple of beers, and next thing I know, Danny had ordered a party bus, invited a bunch of guys from the team, and made reservations at the strip club. We’re at a bar pre-partying, waiting for everyone to get here.

Me: You’re a good friend, Phillip. I stopped at my parents’ grave today. It was my dad’s birthday.

Mac Daddy Loves You: I totally forgot about that. I’m sorry.

Me: It’s okay. Can you believe, in a few days, it will be the fifth anniversary of their deaths?

Mac Daddy Loves You: No, I can’t. You doing okay?

Me: Yeah, I took some flowers and a copy of the ultrasound picture. I wanted them to know. Like, in case they don’t already.

Mac Daddy Loves You: I think they already know. I love you. What are you doing tonight?

Me: Supposed to meet everyone at the bar.

Mac Daddy Loves You: Is Lori going to the bar?

Me: I assume.

Mac Daddy Loves You: Just keep her busy, so she won’t text Danny.

I change into some stretchy jeans that still fit and a black V-neck tee and touch up my makeup.

When I hear the garage door open, I run downstairs. Chelsea and Lori come inside with Mrs. Mac.

“Hey, guys! Did you have a nice dinner?”

“You’re awfully chipper,” Lori says to me, looking irritated.

“I take it, you heard about the strip club.” I realize that going to the bar is probably the last thing she needs. She’ll obsess over how skinny everyone is. She’ll start thinking about Danny being at a bar where everyone looks like this. “I am chipper,” I say, “because I’m excited for us. I thought, instead of going out, we could have a slumber party. Make popcorn. Eat cake. Watch girlie movies. We haven’t done that in forever. Just us girls.”

“That sounds fun,” Chelsea says.

“Did you come up with that before or after you heard about the strip club?” Lori asks bitchily.

“You know what, Lori? Why don’t you decide what you want to do? We can go to the bar and meet everyone, or we can do the slumber-party thing. Either is fine with me. Just let me know,” I say as calmly as I can.

I swear, I’m about ready to blow. Not only did she forget my birthday, but I also worked really hard on the shower that everyone loved, and she hasn’t even said thank you. We all know that I’d rather go to the bar. I don’t even care that I can’t drink. I just want to see everyone.

I remind myself of the medication she’s on, calm myself down, and then turn toward Mrs. Mac. “You wouldn’t happen to have any leftovers, would you?”

“I have some chicken enchiladas and rice.”

“That sounds perfect,” I say, following her to the kitchen.

“You sit,” she says as she takes a pan out of the fridge and dishes me out food. “You did an amazing job with the shower today, JJ. I’d never been at one quite like that. It was really fun. And all your sorority sisters are just so delightful.”

“Thanks.” I beam.

I take a seat at the kitchen table, thinking about all the times I’ve sat at it. Eating peanut butter and crackers after school. Cake every year on Phillip’s birthday. Family dinners. Pizza parties with our friends. The table has been here for as long as I can remember.

But I notice it’s shinier than usual, and the long scratch from Phillip’s backpack is gone.

“Your table looks different,” I say.

“I had it refinished.”

I look at the table some more, feeling sad. It used to have character and memories, which have all been wiped away.

And, even though I know the table we ordered will look new when we get it, I can’t wait to have our friends carve their names in it. I can’t wait for my kids to eat sandwiches on it. I can’t wait for the first scratch. For the table to be a history of our time together.

Somehow, I have to figure out a way to get her to return the table she bought us without hurting her feelings.

She’s smiling and happily chatting to Lori about the baby shower. I’m nodding where it’s appropriate, but my mind is thinking about how appreciative she was when I let her help plan some of the wedding. Maybe that’s the solution. Maybe I should take her to see the table we ordered. Or let her help me pick something out for the house.

I managed to convince both her and Mrs. Diamond that seeing the groom before the wedding wasn’t bad luck. That it would be a special moment. Maybe I need to do something like that again.

Chelsea interrupts my thoughts as she slides into a chair next to me. “Decorating the onesies was such a cute idea. Everyone loved it. I’d love to do that for my shower. I’m also dying to read the advice. Are you going to share them, Lori?”

“Maybe,” she says. “I thought I would save them until after the baby is born.”

Mrs. Mackenzie takes a plate out of the microwave and sets it in front of me. “Where did you go after the shower today?”

“I visited my parents’ grave. Today was my dad’s birthday.”

“April fourteenth,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s right. I can’t believe it’s been almost five years since they passed. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” I tell her. “Pastor John was there. I told him about our pregnancy.”

“I bet he wasn’t as excited as I was.” She chuckles.

I feel my phone vibrate and peek down at my lap.

Phillip: Just so you know, I confiscated Danny’s phone. Lori is being a HUGE bitch. I didn’t realize how bad it was. It’s not often I do this, but I’m feeding him shots. He needs them. Love you, Princess.

“So, what did you girls decide?” Mrs. Mac asks. “If you’re staying here, I’ll make you some mocktails. Maybe mudslides and strawberry daiquiris?”

Lori looks down at her phone and sighs. “That sounds good. Let’s stay here.”

I decide to do what I can to make Lori have fun and forget where Danny is.

We watch as Mrs. Mac throws stuff in the blender, and then she sets pitchers on the table while I get glasses.

Chelsea pours us each a drink, and I say, “Okay. We’re setting some ground rules for this slumber party. All pregnancy, birth, and baby words and topics are off-limits, starting now. Tonight, we’re just girls.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Mac says. “You need to just be a girl sometimes, especially once you become a mother—”

“Drink!” I yell out, pointing at her. “Uh, sorry, old habit. But you just committed a party foul.”

Mrs. Mac is taken aback. “Oh, well, I was just going to say that, no matter what your, uh, role is in life, you should always remember to take care of yourself. You are first and foremost a woman. Wife and mother—”

“Uh …” I say while chanting, Drink mothereffer in my head, but feeling proud of myself for not yelling it out.

“All come later,” she finishes.

“I got a whole lot of advice about that role today,” Lori says. “And what’s the deal? Do women take pleasure in scaring us by describing their deliveries?”

“Uh, drink,” I say to Lori as Mrs. Mac places a delicious-looking slab of chocolate ganache cake and three forks in front of us.

“Damn,” Lori says, automatically taking a chug of her mudslide. Old habits die hard.

“You cussed, too,” I remind her.

She takes another drink, laughing.

“I haven’t had this much fun in a while,” she says as a hunk of cake makes its way toward her mouth, barely hanging on to the dainty dessert fork.

But her question has me thinking. “Um, Mrs. Mac, I was talking to Pastor John today, and he was telling me about his mother-in-law. Did Mr. Mac’s mom like you?”

“You said mom and mother,” Chelsea points out.

I happily take a slug of mudslide.

Mrs. Mac frowns. “She didn’t really approve of me.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Even though we’d been dating for quite some time, getting—” She stops before she says pregnant. “Um, Ashley was a surprise. We eloped, which really upset her. But you have to do what’s right for you as a couple. And eloping helped us avoid the drama. Well, sort of.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was still in college while carrying, um, our surprise.”

I squint at Lori, and we agree to let the carrying slide.

“This one time, she came to our apartment and complained because it was a mess. Said something about how her son wasn’t raised that way.”

“What did you do?” Lori asks her.

“I told her it was her son’s mess. That didn’t go over well. Doug’s family was fairly well off. My family was just pretty normal. She thought I’d tricked him into marrying me for his money. They really weren’t that well off,” she says under her breath. “Sure, they owned the business that he eventually took over, but it was struggling. He made it what it is today. Anyway, I’m headed to bed. You girls enjoy your night. There’s more leftover chicken enchiladas and homemade salsa in the fridge if you get hungry later.”

“Thanks,” we say in unison.

Once she’s out of earshot, Chelsea levels her gaze at me. “How did Phillip’s mom go from a newlywed with a messy apartment to Martha freaking Stewart?”

I shrug. I was wondering the same thing myself.

“Do you think that will be us someday?” Chelsea asks. “Like when we have, um, houses of our own. Will we get better at that stuff?”

“I think so. Did you hear Danny’s cousin talking?” I ask.

Lori says, “Yeah. She made it sound like she was in, uh, pain for three days straight before she gave, uh, before the event.”

“You can say it,” I tease. “You’ll just have to drink.”

“This mudslide is so good. I feel like I’m drinking, but I’m not. And, fine, I’ll say it. Does anyone really have three days of labor?” She automatically chugs her drink.

“She mentioned that she had a huge, um, that she required numerous stitches afterward as well,” Chelsea says. “Just thinking about that makes my nether regions hurt.”

“She was exaggerating,” Lori says. “No one takes three days for the event.”

“My point though is that she said all her two-year-old eats are apples, chicken fingers, and strawberry Pop-Tarts.”

“Sounds like my college diet.” Lori laughs.

“Exactly!” I say. “Meaning we can handle it.”

Lori smiles. “Yeah, you’re right. We can handle it.”

I get brave and ask her what has really been on my mind, “Lori, are you and Danny doing okay?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I heard you were mad they were going out. That kind of stuff never bothered you before.”

She plays with the ends of her hair and then pats her baby bump. “Does it bother you?” She turns to Chelsea. “What about you? Joey is with them. You’re starting to show. You’re a few weeks behind Jade, and your stomach is way bigger.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Chelsea says. “It’s not like I’m fat. I’m pregnant. Besides, Jade is taller than me. My mom said she popped out right away, too. Different body types carry babies different ways. And, no, it doesn’t bother me at all. I trust Joey.”

“It doesn’t bother me either,” I say. “They’re being guys, having fun. It’s not like they go very often. The last time was Phillip’s bachelor party.”

“I know it was,” Lori says. “And bachelor parties are usually the only time he goes.”

“Why don’t I heat up some more enchiladas, and we watch a movie?” I suggest. I don’t want her dwelling on the club. I shouldn’t have even brought it up, but I wanted to make sure they’re okay.

“I can’t wait to put my feet up,” Lori says. “They’re swollen for some reason.”

“You go do that. I’ll heat up the food.”

Chelsea plops on the couch while Lori perches on the edge of it, moving pillows around before leaning back and getting comfortable.

I throw the enchiladas in the microwave and make up a tray of chips and salsa.

Lori says, “Jade, do you think Danny would ever cheat on me? Honestly.”

“I honestly don’t, Lori,” I say, setting the food on the coffee table.

“He cheats at board games,” she counters.

“Yeah, he openly cheats. That’s different.”

Chelsea chooses a movie we’ve seen a million times.

When I go into the kitchen to get more chips, I send Phillip a quick text.

Me: How’s the party?

Mac Daddy Loves You: Danny is buying rounds of lap dances.

Me: Are they better than the one I gave you at your bachelor party?

Mac Daddy Loves You: Yours was by far the sexiest.

Me: I can’t dance.

Mac Daddy Loves You: You gave it a good shot. And you earned shoe money.

Me: I gave the money back to Danny.

Mac Daddy Loves You: Hmm, well … wanna earn some more when you get home?

Me: I love you. Have fun. Be good. Don’t get arrested. And don’t let Danny drink too much.

Mac Daddy Loves You: I have all but the last one covered.

Me: Then, don’t let him do anything stupid.

Mac Daddy Loves You: Have I ever?

Me: Well, you have tried. Doesn’t always work. It needs to work tonight. I think his marriage is at stake. Seriously.

Mac Daddy Loves You: Got it. But we both know he’s not going to cheat. Is he having fun? Yes. Is he a cheater? No. Never has been.

Me: True. Okay, I’ve gotta go. Have fun.

Me: But, like, not too much fun.

“So, the guys were doing their list of nevers at the Super Bowl party,” I say, setting the chips down. “Do you have anything you swear you won’t do when you’re a parent?”

“My kids will never eat fast food,” Lori says.

“I think it’s easy to say you’ll never do something,” Chelsea says to her, “but when I took my nephews to their hockey practices while my sister went Christmas shopping a few months ago, I got them fast food. I know my sister doesn’t let them eat that stuff—hell, I won’t even eat it unless I’m drunk. I know it’s bad for you, but they were whining, crabby, and hungry, and when I asked if they wanted to get some food, they casually suggested a drive-through because we didn’t have much time. It wasn’t until later, when they were happily munching down fries and drinking Mountain Dew like it was the nectar of the gods, did I remember my sister had a no-fast-food rule.”

“Well, sometimes, when you’re traveling or in a hurry, you need to stop for something quick,” I sympathize.

“No, wait,” she says. “There’s more. And, if it wasn’t bad enough that I’d broken that rule, I told them not to tell their mother. I taught them how to lie! I don’t know how she does it. Whenever they go somewhere, it takes her forever because she has to pack a freaking cooler—like just to go for a drive because the boys get hungry. She always has a healthy array of snacks.”

“Although I disapprove of fast food as well,” Lori says, “you weren’t prepared. Your sister should have packed you a cooler.”

“You’re right,” Chelsea says. “See, it wasn’t my fault. Except maybe for the lying. But she would have been mad at me. Although I thought she did all her Christmas shopping online, but she said she and her husband were going together. Maybe they just needed some time alone.”

“I read an article that says it’s important to still have a date night with your husband, even when your kids are little and you don’t want to leave them,” I say.

“Her boys are seven and nine. They actually have a really good babysitter. That’s one thing that will be awesome if Joey and I move here after I graduate. Like, if one of the jobs works out.”

Lori smiles at me. I know Danny has already decided to hire Joey and is putting together a sweet package for him.

“I’m sure one of them will,” I say.

“My sister owes me. I babysat those kids when they went on vacation. Three years in a row.”

“How’s the wedding planning going?” Lori asks Chelsea.

“How did your parents take the news?” I ask, knowing her parents are very driven.

“They were freaking out a little at first. Worried I wouldn’t graduate. Worried we’d only been dating for a few months, but then I told them about how long I’d known him—the almosts. I also mentioned that my big sis, Jadyn, has known Joey since, like, birth.”

“First grade,” I correct, “but close enough.”

“See. And they like Phillip. They’re relieved Joey has already graduated. I told them about the job possibilities. Kind of insinuated one was a done deal, but that was just to put their minds at ease that we won’t starve or anything.

“His parents, on the other hand, were very excited and supportive. They seem to like me. My dad kinda growled at Joey when we told them. And I’m happy. Once I got over the shock. I mean, it’s not like I expected to be pregnant now, but I’m so amazingly happy. I was emotional and was nauseous for the first couple of weeks, but that’s about it. I feel pretty good now.”

“I hate you,” Lori says. “You and Jade are going to be, like, pregnancy unicorns, wearing high heels and looking gorgeous, and I’ll be the dumpy one in her husband’s sweatpants.”

“Lori,” I say, “you never look dumpy.”

She sighs. “At least people can finally see that I’m pregnant and not just fat.”

“Is it really that bad?” Chelsea wonders. “Because I can’t wait to have my stomach look like that. It will mean my baby’s growing and healthy.”

Lori’s eyes get huge. “I didn’t mean that I don’t want a healthy baby, and I know it’s worth it. Ah, shit. I don’t know what the fuck I want. Danny is driving me nuts. Hell, I’m driving myself nuts.”

“And you said three curse words,” I say gently.

She ignores me.

“I’m emotional. I cry for no reason. I’m sensitive. It’s like some sulking, insecure, PMSing fifteen-year-old is living inside me, controlling my emotions. Danny is so sweet and so good to me, but he can’t do anything right. In my mind, I know I’m being ridiculous with the way I’m acting, but it’s how I feel. Like, my emotions are on my sleeve. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t divorce me before the baby comes. I’d deserve it. See? I suck. I made him rub my feet before I forgave him for showing the guys my pregnancy underwear. They don’t even fit me, but the girls at the store said I would need them eventually.”

“Joey thought they were a tire cover.” I laugh.

She laughs, too. “If Danny had told me that, I would have been hurt.”

“He says you blame him for how you feel.”

“I do!”

“So, maybe you need to flip your attitude. Maybe think of your pregnancy as an amazing gift.”

“Are you sending me to Babyville?” She rolls her eyes. “I love him, but there are days I look at him and want to hurt him. I’m crazy. And, to make matters worse, I got invited to lunch with Mitzi Nathaniel.”

“Dirk Nathaniel’s wife?” I ask.

“Yeah, he’s one of the team captains, and she’s sort of the goddess of the football wives. Goes to games all decked out in designer clothes. Heels. Fur. Has four kids and looks perfect. All. The. Time.”

“I read an article about her while I was waiting at the doctor’s office. She has a nanny, fitness instructor, and a chef. That’s why she looks perfect all the time,” I tell her. “So, what do you think? Do you have some nevers?”

“I do!” Chelsea offers. “I will always get up, shower, and get dressed even if the baby hasn’t slept much that night. I won’t wear my pajamas all day.”

“I will never get a minivan,” Lori says. “Maybe an SUV but no minivans.”

“That was on the boys’ list,” I say with a laugh.

“I have a birthing plan,” Lori admits. “I don’t want them to give me pain medication.”

“My sister says the only words you need to remember when you give birth are, I’ll have the epidural, please. She had one kid with pain medicine and one without. She says the one with was a much nicer experience. I’m the girl who had to do tequila shooters when she twisted her ankle. No way I’ll survive that kind of pain without help,” Chelsea says. “Plus, as my sister says, Why would you want to?”

“I’ve read that it slows down labor,” Lori says.

“To which my sister would counter, So I had two extra hours of pain-free labor. So what?”

“What about you, Jade?” Lori puts me on the spot. “Do you have a birthing plan?”

“Not yet. I’m just hoping there is a birth.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had kind of a bad dream the other night,” I admit. “I was bleeding.”

“It’s normal for pregnant women to have bad dreams. It doesn’t mean anything,” Lori tells me, obsessively smoothing out her napkin.

“Have you been having bad dreams?” I ask pointedly.

She sighs. “Yes. But they haven’t been about the baby. They’ve been about Danny.”

“What about him?”

“He’s cheating on me, but who could blame him? In my dreams, I’m the size of a moose, and I haven’t washed my hair in weeks. I wake up, bawling. He’s such an idiot in them. It’s like nothing I say affects him. That’s almost scarier than finding out he cheated. And, in the dreams, I witness the cheating, I call him out on it, and he acts like I’m being ridiculous. And I’m thinking he can’t be that dumb. But then I do think he’s dumb. I want him to swear to me it’s not true, but he just sits there with that smirk of his and doesn’t really say anything.”

“I had a lot of crazy dreams before the wedding. You told me it was because it was on my mind.”

“I can see that about something pertaining to—wait, are we still playing?”

“We haven’t been, but we should be,” Chelsea says. “Be right back. I have to pee.”

“Okay. Uh, pertaining to the little monkey but not Danny. Did you know I signed a prenuptial agreement?”

“It doesn’t surprise me. Mr. D had Phillip sign one. He says anyone who comes to a marriage with a significant amount of assets should.”

“I know. And he told us that he hoped our marriage would never end, but that it’s better to set the terms while you’re in love than when you aren’t on good terms. It all makes sense. And this is going to sound bad no matter how I say it, so please don’t take it wrong.”

“Uh, okay.”

“But when you’re, uh, with a little monkey, you come to the realization that you are stuck with your husband. No matter what you do, once you bring a, uh, monkey into the equation, he will always be a part of your life.”

“Well, yeah,” I say. “Common sense tells you that.”

She sighs. “I think, in the back of my mind, I always felt like, if we didn’t work out, that I could get out of the marriage. No harm. No foul. We go our separate ways. And, now, if he leaves me, I’ll be a twenty-three-year-old single mom. I think that’s why I’m having dreams about him cheating. Because, for the first time, I’ve realized that I need him. I don’t think I can do this by myself. And that makes me feel helpless and unconfident. Combine that with the fact that I’m a super-sized version of myself, you can see why I am a bit of a wreck and why my husband being at a strip club makes me want to simultaneously scream and cry. And, if I’m being really honest, I know the things he loves most about me—my confidence, my intelligence—are gone. I don’t know if I can handle a ba—uh, shoot, a monkey. And I’m afraid, if I don’t know everything, he won’t love me anymore. It’s a vicious circle.”

“It’s just a night out with the boys, Lori. Don’t make it more than that. You were pregnant—”

“Ha!” she yells, pointing at me. “Drink!”

I take a drink and then finish my sentence, “You were pregnant during Phillip’s bachelor party, and Danny didn’t cheat on you. So, you don’t have to worry now.”

She tilts her head. “That’s the most sense you’ve made all night.”

“Remember my wedding disaster dreams? None of them happened. And Phillip told me that you could change your dreams. If he’s cheating on you in your dream, whip off your ugly costume, reveal the gorgeous slinky, skinny dress you’re wearing, and know that he wouldn’t because you’re beautiful to him, pregnant.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“He did. Before the wedding. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Back to the nevers,” Chelsea says, joining us back on the couch. “I’m never going to be too tired for sex.”

To which Lori chuckles but doesn’t say anything.

So, I tell them, “I was in the grocery store the other day, and this kid was lying on the floor in the cereal aisle, screaming bloody murder. Her little body was flailing in ways that seemed anatomically impossible. I felt bad for the mother, but what did she do to set the poor child off? I would have been horrified, but she was ignoring it. She was talking to the cereal instead. Saying something about how only the strongest, healthiest cereals could come home with them. I’m pretty sure she had gone batshit crazy. My child will never have a tantrum in a store.”

It’s Chelsea’s turn to laugh. “My nephew had one once while we were at his brother’s hockey practice. Everything was going great. He was happily running his little cars across the bleachers. I was texting some hot guy when he tried to grab my phone and said he wanted to play with it. I calmly replied that it wasn’t a toy; therefore, he couldn’t play with it. He let out this screech like a hot poker had gotten shoved through his arm. Then, he rolled down two stairs, fell on the ground, and started pounding his head on the bottom bleacher. I was horrified!”

“What did you do?”

“I gave him my phone. He texted the hot guy the words snot and pussy. Deleted half of my apps and then started playing an explicit song. The whole room filled with lyrics about eating dick for breakfast. I think having kids must be a humbling experience.”

“Particularly when you give birth,” Lori says. “When we toured a birthing room, they told us there are sometimes up to five strangers—all medical professionals, mind you—watching you give birth!”

“My sister says you go into some sort of birthing zone and don’t give a shit who sees your vagina. You just want the baby out of you.”

“I’m going to heat up some more enchiladas,” I say, getting up to do so and then bringing them back on a pretty platter.

“Wait!” Chelsea says as I’m getting ready to serve them. “I have to take a picture of this. Line up our drinks, too.”

I artfully arrange our food and beverages.

“Perfect,” she says, snapping away.

“Does your sister take pictures of her food?” I ask.

Chelsea laughs. “I think all she makes is macaroni and cheese. Although she uses gluten-free pasta and coconut milk.”

“I’m considering making my own baby food,” Lori tells us. “I’ve heard it’s much healthier.”

“Lately, I’m lucky if I have time to pick up the phone to call and order delivery,” I say. “And it doesn’t help that, when Phillip’s mom is there, she makes the most amazing meals.”

“She is such a good cook,” Lori agrees. “These enchiladas are so good.”

“But I had visions of my husband coming home from work to find me in sexy lingerie with an amazing dinner waiting for him, spread out in our perfectly decorated, candlelit dining room.”

“I think that’s what is funny about the nevers.” Chelsea laughs. “You know even though we say we won’t do that stuff, we totally will.”