He whispers, “M-mommy says I canna have two c-cookies, but I can.”
“Is that so?” I ruffle his dark hair. “I don’t know. We might have to double-check.”
“Do not let him bamboozle you,” Teagan says. She lifts Baby Lucy from the carrier and takes a seat at the kitchen table. “I swear, between these two and their father, I’m going to be buying food by the pallet in a few months.”
She lifts her shirt, revealing the I-Love-Lucy tattoo she had done on her abdomen after her daughter was born, and unhooks the panel on her maternity bra. Once Baby Lucy’s belly is full, we all sit down to dinner.
I twirl spaghetti around my fork, only half listening while Teagan and Hollywood go over their plans for the baby shower.
“For activities,” Teagan says, “I was thinking we’d have a crafting-slash-coloring station and a plushie cuddle corner.”
She holds up a party concept photo on her phone, and I do my best tooohandahhat the expected moments. I’m still a little salty about Teagan taking charge of organizing my best friend’s baby shower, not that I know the first thing about party planning. I’m sure not having a car or a driver’s license would’ve become a problem at some point, and Teagan did try to involve me in the process at first. But by then, I was already feeling resentful.
“How long is the guest list right now?” Hollywood asks. I can tell she’s trying not to seem anxious about the number of people coming to celebrate her life event.
“It’s looking like twelve to fifteen people, not counting kiddos, but they won’t all be in the same space the whole time. Daddies and hubbies will be sequestered to Jonah’s man cave in the basement, so it’ll only be us girls on the main floor.”
Hollywood nods, looking somewhat relieved.
“Okay, that sounds manageable.”
Teagan pats her hand. “If you feel overwhelmed at any point, you can always hide in the nursery. Or we can build you a blanket fort.”
I hide my frown by wedging an entire garlic knot into my mouth. As much as I don’t enjoy giving Teagan credit, I’ll admit she is good at all this grown-up stuff—the planning and prepping and taking care of people. I appreciate that she’s taken Hollywood’s social anxiety into consideration, even if watching the two of them together makes me want to smear tomato sauce on Teagan’s favorite plush.
Mary takes a sip of water and then clears her throat.
“So, Kenzie,” Mary says. “It’s been a while since I last saw you. How’ve you been?”
I swallow the food in my mouth. “I’m fine.”
“I hope Austin and Jonah aren’t working you too hard.”
Hollywood’s lips quirk as she mixes the pasta and sauce on her plate.
“Nope,” I say. “Work’s fine... How are you?”
“Oh, I’m good. Nothing new on the work front for me, but my friend just opened her own counseling practice.”
“That’s exciting,” Teagan says.
“Yeah.” Mary nods. “She’s the type of person who excels at being their own boss, on top of being an excellent counselor. Very approachable.”
I nod through a lull in the conversation, then fill the silence with a noncommittal. “Cool.”
“She sees people for all kinds of reasons,” Mary continues. “But her specialization is in PTSD and sexual trauma. I highly recommend her. She even has openings on Saturdays.”
“That’s convenient,” Hollywood says, a little too cheerfully.
I watch my best friend closely, noting the fact that she’s no longer eating, just pushing her food around on the plate, like she’s waiting for something.
Mary helps herself to some more salad. “How long’s it been since you girls met with the trauma counselor?”
I stiffen.
“About a year for me,” Hollywood says. “It’s about the same for you, too, right Kenzie?”
My gaze volleys between the two of them. “Uh-huh...”