When Girlfriends Step Up (30 page)

“And that’s when I finally found the perfect name for my baby,” I said to them.

“When Bobby gave you your one week anniversary present?” Jackie asked, her face squished in confusion.

“Which is totally sweet, by the way. I honestly don’t think Conner ever did that,” Claire added. She threw back the rest of her champagne. “One year, yeah. Not a week.”

“Tell us the name already!” Lara urged.

“Rose,” I said. “‘Roses for my Rose.’ It hit me when I read Bobby’s little card. Isn’t it the sweetest name?”

“I love it,” Claire said.

“Do you have a middle name picked out?” Lara asked.

“No. Just Rose. She only needs one. Who needs two names anyway?”

Lara moved her head in contemplation.

“True,” Claire said. “Sophie hates her parents sometimes for naming her Anna-Sophia. Says she feels like she should be a Catholic nun or something. That’s just her first name and she doesn’t even use both of them. I wonder why we do have middle names…”

“Rose, I like that,” Jackie said. “I like that a lot. And just ‘Rose.’ It’s like just ‘Madonna’ or ‘Pink’ or ‘Adele.’ A good move, Robin.”

“Yeah, because I definitely chose my baby’s name keeping in mind popular pop star names.”

We pulled up in front of the coffeehouse.

“Let’s check this joint out!” Jackie shrieked, stepping quickly to the house’s open patio doors.

“Find us some seats together, Jack. If you can,” Claire called out. Claire tittered at the energetic Jackie, who had insisted that she slip into a hot pink dress for the night. We told her we were going to a coffeehouse, with some light acoustical guitar music, and not a bouncing bar, but no matter.
 

“Think they’re serving drinks?” Jackie asked, before disappearing into the house.

“I’ll go find us some seats,” Claire groaned, high-stepping it after Jackie.

“It’s been too long since we went out like this,” Lara said. She took her seat next to me near the back of the coffeehouse. It was just about packed, the music not yet underway, but the chatting and the sounds of the espresso machines and milk foamers filled the cozy room.

“And it’s probably going to be a long while until the next time we get to do this,” I said, a little somber.

“It’ll be worth it. You’re going to gush all over Rose once she’s here. You know it,” Lara encouraged. “I really love that name, by the way.”

“Hey girls,” Jackie interrupted. “I’m going to take a quick smoke before the music gets started.” She dashed off to the patio.

“So, are things with Bobby
still
spectacular as ever?” Claire asked me. “Still as great after his romantic first week anniversary move?” She blew at her fresh mug of coffee.

“Oh my goodness. Better than ever. It’s still so unbelievable.” I blew on my own hot beverage.

“I’m really happy for you, Robin,” Lara said. “Of course I’m going to miss my partner in crime when I need to bitch about the single life, but it’s worth it.” She gave me a wink.

The girls had all met Bobby, and they all gave their ten-score approval for both looks and charm. Lara had been hosting a
Will and Grace
marathon and cocktail night at our apartment not too long ago when Bobby came by to pick me up for a date at the folk festival going on at the Seattle Center. It was one of our dress-down, cotton candy and torn jeans kind of dates—my favorite. When I returned home, the girls all still planted in the living room, Will, Grace, and the gang razzing the audience (and the girls) into fits of comedic laughter, they gushed over how handsome Bobby was, and how sweet he was, and what a sexy voice he had. You know, typical girl raving and gossiping about men, love, our lives, and how amazing it is when they intersect.

“No new developments with Paul?” I asked Lara.

“Oh, no. Not a shot in hell. All in my head.” Lara inattentively took a sip of her coffee. “Know what I mean? All blown out of proportion. Nope. No love life here.”

“Hey!” Jackie said, quickly rushing back over to us. She pulled down her dress, holding her small breasts as she tugged so as not to accidentally pull the whole thing down and give everyone a peep show. “Some guys out there were talking about how one of these guitarists is pretty famous or something.”

Jackie turned her back to Claire and asked, “Claire, my ass hanging out?”

“Nope, all’s clear.”

“Good.” Jackie held out her hand to Lara, doing a dance with her fingers like a child who’s begging for a sip of whatever Mom is drinking. “Let me taste.” Lara gave in. “Not wearing any underwear tonight,” Jackie said. She took a speedy sip, returned the mug to Lara, and gave a thumbs up. “With this skimpy dress I have to be careful not to show my business to the world. That tastes good by the way, girl.”

“Ooo. That’s disgusting,” Lara said, contorting her face. “Why the hell are you not wearing any?”

“Underwear does
not
go with this dress, Lara. Fashion one-oh-one, honey.” She made a swooping motion from her shoulder down her side. “Thong line and tight tube dress are
not
a match. I don’t care what
Redbook
says about seamless panties. No such thing. Best answer is panty-free. What’s that drink anyway?”

Lara responded, to which Jackie said, “I want one.”

Lara gave her mug to Jackie, looked at me, and said after a sigh, “I’ll be back. You want anything else, girls?”

The guitar duo performed a few of their own songs, one of which I swore I’d heard before; one of the guys probably
was
someone famous, but not one of us figured it out, even after learning of the duo’s name.

After a couple of cover songs there was a brief pause, enough time to refill our beverages and mix, mingle, and chat.

“So are you and Bobby going to move in together now or what?” Jackie asked me over the raucous chatter and whirring coffee machines.

“Are you kidding?” I said. The thought of living with Bobby had yet to cross my mind. I had recently moved in with Lara. We finally got the baby’s room complete. Goodness, my last moving box was unpacked (all thanks to needless procrastination) only last week. Move in with Bobby? No way.

“It’s not such a crazy idea,” Jackie said. “All right, so maybe Andrew and I move faster than the average couple, but are you saying it’s out of the picture?”

“Of course not. I haven’t given it any thought, though. We’re keeping things paced. Not making any rash decisions. And we see each other all the time. And…I like my set up now.” I set my empty mug on the side table. “I really like the way things are. I’ve got the best roomie.” I smiled at Lara. “I’ve got the most beautiful nursery, which, by the way, Jack, looks
amazing
with that chair rail. You’re quite the handy woman.” Jackie made a mock motion of fluffing her hair. “I love my set up, and I don’t think I should go gallivanting off in search of a new place with my dreamboat right now.”

“What are we talking about, ladies?” Claire said, returning from the bathroom.

“How Robin here is going to run away with hot-lips Bobby,” Jackie kidded. “Move in with him, get married, make more baby Roses.”

“Oh my God! I will
kill
myself if you get married before I do, Robin. I mean, you’re already having babies before Conner and me. Oh my God. You can’t do this to me, girl.”

I calmed Claire down while trying to contain my outburst of laughter. “Girl, we are
not
going to run off and get married any time soon. Do
not
worry about that. And more babies? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I mean, you know I’m not totally serious,” Claire said. “I wouldn’t actually
kill
myself. Or be all angry or something stupid like that. It would just…you know, be like,
what the hell?
Conner still won’t get off his ass and propose. I’m going to be forty before he finally works up the nerve. Honestly.”

“Don’t be so dramatic; you know that’s not true,” I told her. “And Bobby and I are not even talking about marriage. Jackie asked if she thought we’d move in together, but that’s not happening, either. Things are staying the way they are. I need stability. Rose needs stability.”

“Well, have you at least done it yet?” Jackie asked.

“‘Done it?’ What are we, in high school?” Lara asked.

“Are you joking? Look at me, Jack. I’m pregnant. I can’t even put on my socks and shoes by myself anymore.”

“You know,” she said, pragmatically. “I read somewhere that you can do it right up until labor.”

“Enough,” I said. “Not having this conversation. Not here, not now, not—”

“Not until you
do
do it, and then you’ll spill the details?” She gave me a toothy, bleached white smile, nodding her blonde head.

“Yeah, not until then,” I said, ending the discussion. The girls kept on chatting before the music recommenced, while I though about how much fun and how thrilling it would be when the day came for Jackie to be the expectant mother.

G
od save us all.

***

“Sent!” I said exuberantly, as I listened to the whooshing sound of the email making its virtual way to the editing department. I’d finished work on my recent book cover, and already had my initial mock-ups for the next one sent off, too. The long list of to-dos before I shortly took my maternity leave was shrinking.

“What are you so happy about?” Janet asked rudely.

As much as I was getting used to Janet’s unnecessary and highly rude comments and quips about anything and everything under the sun, they weren’t any less annoying. Sometimes I felt like bolting out of my seat and shouting, “Shut the hell up!” Other times I wanted to pull at her hair. Most of the time I wanted to wheel her on her swivel chair into the hallway and lock her out of the office. Hang a sign that read:
No Bitches Allowed!
My job security, and the fear of what would happen if I actually stood up to her, kept me from doing anything more severe than ignoring her.

“Hello?” Janet repeated, sounding just like that wretchedly dressed, redheaded chick from the film
Clueless
. Spoiled, snooty, and her words leaving a bad taste in your mind when you mentally repeated them. “Going to answer me? Or do you only talk to the people you sleep with around here?”

Oh she was crossing the line. That smarmy—

“Robin!” She was nearly shouting now.

“What?” I answered loudly. “What, Janet? I sent an email. That’s all. No big deal.”

“Well stop talking to yourself over there. It’s distracting.
Highly
distracting. And you sound like a crazy person.”

Speak for yourself. If you weren’t such a busybody, then you wouldn’t waste your time, or mine, asking about the slightest of pin drop noises around here.

I gruffly shoved away from my desk. Bobby and I weren’t going to take lunch for another thirty minutes, but I needed fresh air. And a breath without Janet commenting I was breathing too loudly or something absurd.

“High strung, are we?” Bobby asked in between bites of his sack lunch.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” I said, not wanting to belabor the reason behind my flustered state.

“The bitch on wheels.” He nodded, knowingly.

“Don’t want to talk about her. Let’s talk about happy things.”

“All right,” he said. “Let’s talk about holiday plans. Anything special for Thanksgiving planned?”

“Not really. Lara doesn’t usually go home for Thanksgiving. And I don’t want to go anywhere being so near to my due date and all. You?”

“My family’s spread out all over the country. Thought I’d stay home this year. Maybe spend it with you?” He raised his eyebrows, hopeful.

That’d make for a fun holiday. Easy-going, just the three of us—Lara, Bobby, and me—maybe we’d make a turkey this year. Neither Lara nor I were very traditional when it came to Thanksgiving. We’d spent it together last year, in fact, and I think the menu contained sushi and Saki.

“I warn you,” I told him, “it’ll be very low-key. Probably no big traditional feast. I’m doing my Thanksgiving
and
Christmas this year at home, with Lara. I have literally
no
idea what to expect from little Rose.” I circularly rubbed my stomach. “I don’t know for sure when she’ll actually come. Early? Late? On time? It’s getting closer and I’m getting kind of scared.”

Bobby pulled me near, leading us for a walk through the park once we finished our food. He told me the clichéd and corny line that the only thing I had to fear was fear itself. That I’d be brave when it came time to give birth. I was prepared, after all. I’d been eating right, taking my vitamins, reading my how-to and what-to-expect books. I’d even managed four classes of Lamaze, which included a very hands-on tutorial on breastfeeding. Can you say, “awkward”? Poor Lara—the things that girl did for me. It’s not every day your best friend will feel you up, cop a boob, and read the breast pump tutorial with you on an early Saturday morning.

“Would it be all right if I came to the hospital? When Rose is born?” Bobby’s question sprang from nowhere. As with the idea of moving in with him some day, I’d never put any thought into Bobby being at the hospital when Rose was born. Those topics didn’t really register under the heading
Moving Slow
.

I had already invited Kaitlyn, and all the girls (including Emily) to the hospital, and everyone said they wouldn’t dream of missing Rose’s birth. Lara would be the only one in the actual delivery room, though; everyone else would sit in the waiting room for God knew how long. I didn’t think about that—the long and painful birth I’d have to endure—either. But Bobby? At the hospital? Why not?

“Sure,” I said. “I don’t know where my head’s been. Should have asked you. Yes, yes, of course. All my friends will be there waiting…so if you’re okay with sitting with a bunch of hyped-up, baby-crazy girls. They’re more excited about all this than I am, I feel.” I let out a thoughtless chortle. “But it’s the fear of the unknown, and the pain, that I think has me worried.”

“You’ll do fine. And I’ll be waiting there for you and baby Rose for as long as it takes.”

“Hopefully not
too
long.”

He wrapped me in a warm embrace, a comfort from the chilling breeze of the crisp November day, and he kissed me. He pulled back a short distance, told me he loved me, then dipped down for another passionate, deep kiss.