I lay my head back and prepare myself for the frenzy I’m sure this day will turn into.
“Hey, Beck mentioned something to me when he got back the other day—you know when you guys had that meeting at CS?” I nod, questioning where she is going with this. “He mentioned the name Zac. Is that what you decided to name the baby?”
I turn and look at her, wondering when I let Zac’s name slip. It makes sense that I would have. Emotionally, the stakes were so high in that conference room that I used every tool I had to get Asher to listen. If he wouldn’t have for me, I know he would have for Zac. We hadn’t wanted to tell anyone what we were having, so I’m kind of upset that not only is his gender known, but also his name.
“Yeah, we decided to name him Zac,” I speak softly.
It doesn’t really matter if they know, and we can still share the meaning behind his nickname when he’s born. I mentally remind myself to fill Asher in on everyone knowing.
“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” she hesitantly asks while merging into traffic.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I just didn’t realize that I had said Zac’s name. We had planned on waiting until he was born to announce it.”
“I’m sorry, Chelcie. If it makes you feel better, I think I’m the only one who knows. Beck just asked me if I had heard anything about it.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’ve got a healthy baby boy, a great fiancé, and . . . and I just sent my book off to my editor, Mickey. Trust me, Dee. It’s okay.”
“Holy shit, Chelc! That’s amazing. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I’m still terrified, but I figure I would regret it if I never tried.”
“I agree. I can’t wait to read it.”
I smile at her and we continue to make small talk before we pull into the parking lot where Sway’s salon is located as well as Dee’s small insurance company and the Corps Security offices.
Dee loops her arm through mine and we take off across the parking lot. I have to struggle to keep up with her. Her ever-present heels are eating up the pace quicker than I can waddle after her. I’ve turned into a damn teeter-totter the last few days. The only things that have grown on my body are my boobs and belly, but it still feels like I have an extra hundred pounds to carry around.
“Slow down, you crazy woman,” I hiss when I almost fall on my face.
“Hey, you just need to figure out how to get that watermelon to sway with you,” she giggles.
“Whoa, this belly doesn’t sway. I haven’t swayed in way too long. I just kind of march, heavy and with a weird side step to keep my hips from grinding.”
She shudders. “That sounds terrible.”
I laugh. “It really isn’t that bad. I think the positives by far outweigh the pain I might be feeling for a few more weeks.”
I try to keep it positive, but truth be told, I’m miserable. I just want to be done being pregnant and hold my son in my arms. Unfortunately, I still have some time. My last doctor’s appointment confirmed that Zac is measuring well past his gestational age. Dr. Sosa laughed and told me politely that the baby must take after his linebacker father. I don’t ever correct her when she assumes that Asher is the father. To us, he will be, and the detail of Zac’s conception isn’t anyone else’s business but our own.
“I guess you’re right,” she says reverently. “Maybe one day, but for now, we’re having too much fun practicing.” She winks at me and pushes the door to the salon open wide. “Hey, everyone! Guess who’s engaged!” she screams at the top of her voice.
My face instantly heats, but I laugh right along with her when every one of our friends pounces. My hand is pulled in a million directions. Congratulations are squealed and screamed. By the time all the girls have stopped gawking at my beautiful ring, I look up and see Sway—hands on his hips and his eyebrow raised.
“You better get that fine ass over here, mama!” he sasses.
I excuse myself from his receptionist’s grasp and walk over to where he’s standing. Like normal, he’s dressed loudly.
“You look good, Sway. How much weight have you lost now?” I implore, hoping that he won’t make a big deal about this.
“Don’t you try and distract me now, honey. I know I look good. Between Davey helping me work out at the gym and at home, oh Lordy Lou, you would think I would have those sexy six-pack abs all of you girls’ fine men have. But enough about me and how fabulous I am.” He moves one heavily braceleted arm to his hip, sticking his other hand in my direction and waving it as if I’m supposed to magically know what he’s demanding. “Don’t make me wait all day, you vixen. Give me that hand!”