Paul grins, his reflection visible in the over the door mirror I’m using for adjusting my tie and cuffs. “So, Beck, do you think you can tell me what you’re having? Lia still refuses.”
With all the drama surrounding the reveal of our relationship and pregnancy, Lia wanted something that was just ours. As much as I wanted to scream the news from the top of Huntsworth Industries and put it in our company newsletter as soon as we found out at the ultrasound appointment, I knew that it was important to Lia. With so much out of our control, she wanted just a tidbit of news that only we were aware of.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling. “Your daughter threatened my family jewels if I even consider it. I’m sorry, Paul. You’ll know in less than a month,” I offer.
No one except Tasha knows that we’re having a little girl, and that’s how Lia wants to keep it. With my own grand-daughter due to be born just three days after my daughter, the OB/GYN is joking that she will do a two-for-one deal on the delivery room if Lia and Tasha deliver on the same day. Given how close they have been for most of their lives, it’s half-expected that they’ll go into labor together. Lia claims it’s hormones, and I say it is their sheer stubborn determination to stay the same. If one broke a bone or got a sprain as a child, we could practically set the clock by when the other would start screaming about having fallen and hurt herself, too.
My excitement over having a second daughter is hard to keep to myself, and anything pink we’ve bought was smuggled into the locked nursery where wedding attendees won’t be able to see it. The fact that I haven’t spilled the news by accident to even our housekeeper has been miraculous. I’m lucky that technology was not so far advanced when Carrie was pregnant with Tasha. I don’t think the younger me had the willpower to keep such a secret.
Paul glowers at me, trying to force the knowledge out of me with a sulk. He doesn’t have even a quarter of the effect Lia does. “She already told me you’re having a girl, so you can stuff the silent treatment, Beck.”
I know she wouldn’t have told her dad, especially without my knowing, so I just shrug. “Then you’ll have to see if you’re right when the baby’s here.” I hope he won’t call my bluff, and I fix my hair as he seethes behind me. While we have chosen a handful of names, we haven’t picked the one yet. We want to meet our daughter and get to know her before settling on a name, and we know we would both slip up beyond calling her “the baby.”
“You and my daughter are so damned stubborn!” Paul stands up and stomps his way over to the window. “I just want to know if I’m having a grandson or granddaughter. Is that too much to ask?”
“Has the wedding planner gotten the floral arch up?” It’s not a smooth segue, but I hope the distraction will work. I value my friendship with Paul, and he has been upset over the secrecy for a few months now. We’ve known since our sixteen-week checkup, and Lia had even considered us not finding out.
Paul hums in response to my question, tapping the window. “Yeah. They have some kid up on a ladder attaching the rest of the flowers. It looks like they’re purple or blue, maybe. Dark is all I can tell from here. I don’t know. Lia would know the right name for them.”
The florist is right on schedule. Hiring a wedding planner to take care of everything except the actual designing was my best idea for our union . I know Lia is an amazing artist and she is fully capable of creating everything we had made for our wedding. However, I wanted her to be able to relax and enjoy our day without unnecessary worries. It took some convincing, but she willingly handed over her sketchbooks and photos of what she wanted, and I wrote the check. Even with me begging for more from Lia and the designer pushing for a larger budget on what we decided, we only spent half of what Carrie and I had on my first wedding. I did not have the job then I do now. The most extravagant expense was having fabric designed especially for us. The midnight blue accent on Lia’s gown had strands of silver woven into it while mine had an even deeper indigo shade that bordered on being black. The pattern was subtle, and I only knew that Lia was pleased with the fabric. I was happy with how the tux fit, but my tailor always did a great job.