Best of My Love (Fool's Gold, #20)

“What are they drinking?” he asked, nodding at Destiny and Isabel, both pregnant.

“Some ginger-ale-and-cranberry-juice concoction. Jo came up with it years ago. It’s a way for those going through pregnancy to not feel left out of celebrations.” She tilted her head. “I understand you recently hung out at Jo’s.”

“With Shelby. Yes.”

“How was that?”

“Like the champagne. Better than I thought it would be.”

“The experiment is interesting. Do you think it’s going to help?”

“I hope so.”

Taryn’s eyes were nearly violet in color. Her hair was long and dark. She was a few years older than Shelby and had an air of wisdom about her. As if she’d seen and done a lot in her life.

“Should I worry about either of you?” she asked.

The question was unexpected. He wouldn’t be surprised by her worrying about Shelby, but him? “Thanks, but I can take care of myself.”

“I work with two big, tough guys. Three before Jack went off to be a coach. All of them would tell you that they can take care of themselves. You’d be amazed how often they’re wrong.” She sipped her champagne. “You could be, too.”

“It’s worth the risk.”

“Then good luck.”

She walked away. Aidan waited a few seconds, then went looking for Shelby. In this estrogen overload, she was his safe haven.

As he crossed the living room he heard Larissa say the word baby. He paused long enough to pluck what turned out to be the last clothespin from her sweater.

The fit blonde laughed at him. “You’re good at this.”

“You’re bad at not saying the B word.”

When they’d first arrived, Larissa had given each guest five clothespins and explained the rules of the game. No one was allowed to say the word baby. If someone was overheard using the word, that person got to take one of their clothespins. Whoever had the most clothespins at the end won. So far Aidan was cleaning up.

Shelby stood by several women. When she saw him, she stepped away from the group.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Good. I like the champagne.”

“We have to do our pages in the alphabet book.”

“The what?”

She grabbed him by the arm and led him through the dining room to the kitchen. At the large kitchen table were squares of fabric and dozens of pens.

He sat next to Shelby and looked at several of the completed squares. They showed a different letter of the alphabet along with a drawing of an object that started with that letter. An apple for A, a flower for F.

“Here’s the master list,” Shelby said, pulling it out from the stack of fabric squares. “What letters do you want?”

He took O and U, drawing an oar for the first one and an umbrella for the second. Shelby chose G and Y.

“What are you going to do for Y?” he asked.

“A yak. I do pretty decent animals. I took a class on how make desserts for kids’ parties and part of it was learning how make animals with frosting. Pens are much easier.”

Which put his oar and umbrella in perspective, he thought humorously.

“What happens with all the squares?” he asked.

“Larissa will get them bound and covered. Then Destiny will have the book for her daughter. When she reads it to her, she’ll remember all of us and today.”

Connections, he thought as he picked up a pen. Women did like their connections. Although in this case, he had to admit he got it. While the party was nothing any of his friends would want, there was something about it. A rite of passage maybe. Or perhaps the value was all in the caring. While he was sure there were women who needed the gifts from the shower for the baby, that wasn’t the case for Destiny. She could afford to buy whatever her daughter would need.

Still, the presents were creative. Clever. A tricycle made of baby diapers. Pink elephants made out of washcloths. Gifts that were more special, not just because they were practical, but because of the time invested. Like the alphabet book.

He remembered an old movie, Witness, where an Amish community had gotten together to build a barn. The structure had been needed, but more than that, it stood as a testament to tradition, to acceptance and caring from the community. The shower was like that.

Later, he and Shelby walked home together. He carried the large centerpiece he’d won from the clothespin game.

“You survived,” she told him. “Congratulations.”

“It was fun. Different. There’s no competition with your girlfriends.”

“Is there competition with men?”

“Mostly. We want to know our place in the hierarchy. Sometimes we have to jockey for position. Or walk away when there’s a game we can’t win.”

“Like you and Del with your dad.”

“Just like that.”

“What about the rest of the party?” she asked.

“I liked it. The food was good. A little pink, but good.”

They reached her place. He walked her up to her porch and handed her the centerpiece.

She grinned. “You don’t want to take it home?”