“I know, you’re right. Still, I feel bad, her going to all this trouble for basically three people.” He gave her a look, and she sighed. “Fine, I’m over it. Myself, whatever. Satisfied?”
Then she leaned back, her arms crossed over The Bump, looking ironically deflated, and Tyler wanted to wrap her up in his arms so bad his teeth ached. Which he supposed as a friend he could do, no problem. Except even the strongest people—which God knows, Laurel was—had their weak moments. And he’d never forgive himself if he caught her in one of those and misunderstandings ensued.
So instead he held out his hand for her plate. “You want more?”
“As if,” she said, then smiled, and poof! the cloud dispersed. “Although I’ll make room for cake if I have to jump up and down to move the kid out of the way.”
After dinner, she asked Tyler if he had any foil to wrap up a piece of cake to take to her grandmother, he could keep the rest. Tempting as that was, however—the cake was even better than the casserole—he cut a piece for himself and gave her back the carrier with the remainder. She looked at it and sighed.
“You would not believe the kitchen crap Kelly made me buy. Now I’ll be guilted into figuring out what to do with it so I won’t feel like I wasted my money.”
He walked her outside, watching as she waddled across the grass, got into her car. Shut the door. Turned the key in the ignition.
RrrrRrrrRrrr. RrrrRrrrRrrr...
Three times, she tried. Three times, the engine said, Nope.
Tyler walked over, motioned for her to roll down her window. Her expression was priceless. “Need a lift?”
“You don’t have to—”
“You planning on walking, what?”
She huffed a very annoyed sigh. Which was probably aimed more at the car than him, but assumptions were dangerous things. “What are you, my fairy godneighbor?”
Chuckling, he grabbed his keys and the dog’s leash from the entry table, locked his door, and he and Boomer headed toward his truck. Quivering with joy, the dog jumped in; Tyler went around to the passenger side in time to see Laurel haul herself out of her car, the cake carrier a swinging blur in her hand before she steadied herself, then wobble-walked back across the grass.
“No, I’m good,” she said when he tried to help her—and would someone explain to him why the more pissed a woman was, the more stubborn she got?—although she did hand him the cake. Took her a while to figure out where to put what, like a mountain climber attempting to scale a sheer cliff. But after a few seconds of under-her-breath swearing, she grabbed hold of the handlebar by the door, planted one foot on the dash and heaved herself, grunting, into her seat.
“Pleased with yourself?” he asked, handing her back the cake.
“Inordinately.”
A few minutes into the drive, however, he noticed how hard she was looking out her window, and his chest cramped. “Hey—”
“No, I’m good,” she said, tossing him a little smile that royally ticked him off.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, Laurel. This can’t be easy for you—”
“And, as everyone keeps reminding me,” she said steadily, “I won’t be pregnant forever.”
“Not talking about that. And you know it.”
Silence. He glanced over, saw her lips smashed flat. And a tear slip down her cheek.
“Aw, honey—”
“Damn you,” she whispered. “I’m trying so hard to stay positive about this...” She shook her head, her lower lip quivering. “Then reality creeps in, that I don’t know a blessed thing about taking care of babies. I never even babysat, for God’s sake. And now I’m expected to keep one alive? To know the difference between the hungry cry and the frustrated cry and the sleepy c-cry? And the scariest thing is,” she said, swiping at her eyes, “I can’t go under, can I? Because who else does this little guy have, besides me? Gran, sure, but come on, the woman’s in her eighties...” She pushed out a shaky breath, then said, “The closer I get to actually having this kid? The more I wonder what am I thinking, trying to go solo with this.”
Her words, her tears, punched him right in the gut. And brought to mind the fear, the helplessness, in someone else’s eyes, so many years ago. “You regretting your decision?” he quietly asked.
A harsh laugh preceded her troweling through her purse for a tissue. She blew her nose, then said softly, “Oh, God, Tyler—you have no idea how much I already love this little g-guy. How I can’t wait to meet him. To hold him. And deep down I know I’ll muddle through this somehow. Like a gazillion mothers before me have done. But sometimes...” Her lip started quivering again. “I wake up in the middle of the night so p-panicked I can hardly breathe.”
A second or two passed, before he said, his fingers strangling the wheel, “Then it’s a good thing I do know something about babies. Weird as that might sound.”
She sniffed. “From your b-brother’s kids?”
“Yeah. And Abby, too. She was this tiny thing when I came to live with the Nobles. Followed me everywhere, like a damn baby bird. It was either learn to change her diaper or get asphyxiated,” he said, and Laurel burped out a little laugh. “So you’ve got me, when I’m around. And your grandmother. Who can at least handle some of the other stuff while you take care of the kid, right? And I’m sure Kelly’ll be more than happy to help out, too, when she can.”
“I wouldn’t ask—”
“This is Kelly we’re talking about. You asking isn’t even part of the equation.” He paused. “Same goes for me. Because this family...that’s how we roll.”
She blew her nose again. “Except I’m not family.”
“Don’t kid yourself. The minute you came to that wedding, you were family. Hell, the minute anyone walks in that house, they’re family...”
His own words smacking him upside his head, Tyler glanced over, saw her swallow. And blink. Ignoring the stinging at the back of his own throat, he focused again on the road. “You won’t be alone, honey. I promise.”
After a moment, she nodded. But she didn’t say another word the rest of the way there.
It was nearly dark by the time they arrived. Recognizing Laurel, the guard at the gate to her grandmother’s complex waved them through. Laurel directed him to park over by the lushly landscaped, brick-fronted clubhouse, flanked by tennis courts on one side, a pool on the other, where they found the old gal enjoying the hell out of herself—along with two dozen of her compadres—at a luau-themed cookout, tiki torches, leis and all.
They were instantly swarmed, although the women weren’t sure who to fawn over first—Tyler, Boomer or the Very Pregnant One, who’d apparently already won their hearts some time ago. Eventually, though, the VPO won out among the women, while Boomer found himself eating up the attention of a half dozen old men, all of whom clearly missed having their own dogs—the place allowed cats, and “those little yappy things,” said one dude with a shudder that made Tyler smile—but nothing that “crapped like an elephant,” as another old guy said. Boomer didn’t take offense. He was mellow like that.
In any case, the place gave off good vibes, not only because the grounds really were first-rate, but because the residents were, too. He could tell. And as he watched Laurel divvy up little pieces of the cake to her fan club, heard her laughter and watched her glowing face as she accepted their praise, he noticed not only the genuine affection she and the golden girls shared, but how much they all loved a party....
Huh.
Smiling, he pulled out his phone and called Kelly.
* * *
The morning of the shower dawned hot and muggy, as though September hadn’t yet gotten the memo that summer was supposed to be winding down by now. By this point, Laurel—who’d passed “miserable” a week ago, and she had three weeks left, God help her—was ready to go lie in a wading pool
somewhere and let cabana boys bring her food and drinks until the baby slipped out. But, alas, since pools and cabana boys weren’t an option, she showered, pulled on the only dress she could still fit into and wriggled puffy feet into a pair of sparkly flip-flops.
She so did not want to do this, in so many ways. But she could only imagine the trouble Kelly’d gone through, and she knew Gran would be disappointed as well if Laurel bailed. And since Kelly’d said a whole bunch of people had sent gifts, anyway, and opening them alone would be beyond depressing, she supposed she could buck up for a couple of hours.
After that, though, she was coming back home and not moving, except to go potty and forage for food, until this kid was out.
Since Gran had “done something” to her right foot, Laurel had agreed to pick her up in her once-more-running car—the mechanics of which Tyler had explained to her but had flown right over her head. She drove the things, other people fixed them. But not everyone could write a book, so there.
Gran was all glammed up in a new pair of beige slacks and a bright purple, much-bedazzled top, her glasses glinting in the September sun as she walked out to the car. Without, it seemed to Laurel, much of a limp.
“Your foot better?”
“What? Oh. Yeah. Except when I push down on it. You know, like when I have to use the gas pedal.” They got in, but Gran had no sooner snapped her seat belt when she smacked her own forehead and said. “I am such a dumbbutt, I forgot I need maintenance to come look at my dishwasher. You mind stopping at the office on our way out? It’ll only take a minute.”
“No problem. You mind if I wait in the car?”
“Not at all, baby.” Except, after they parked and Gran got out, Laurel noticed her grandmother hobbling toward the door, stopping every few seconds to catch her breath. What the hell?
“Gran?” she said, worried, as she pried herself from behind the wheel and made her own arduous journey over to the other woman. “What’s wrong?”
“No, no...you go back to the car, I’ll be okay,” she said, taking another step. Laurel caught her before she crumpled to the ground.
“For heaven’s sake! Do you need to see a doctor—?”
“No! I mean, don’t be ridiculous. What’re they gonna do, give me a pill for being old? Just help me inside, I’m sure it’ll pass...”
So, slowly, she escorted Gran into the large lobby...only to notice, through the open doors leading to the poshly appointed gathering room on the other side, not only a whole lot of people milling about, but a whole lot of balloons and other party decorations.
A whole lot of baby boy blue balloons and party decorations.
“Surprise,” Gran whispered behind her.
“This... Wait. It’s for me?”
“Since for damn sure nobody here’s expecting, yep.”
Stunned, Laurel walked closer. Saw tables laden with food. More tables laden with gifts. So many, many gifts. Tears stung as her hand went to her mouth. Her unlipsticked mouth, since, you know, she’d been expecting Gran and Kelly and that was it.
“Hey, everybody!” Gran yelled behind her, making her jump and Jonny thump her bladder. “She’s here!”
And out of a rainbow of grinning faces, a gentle roar of applause and welcomes, Kelly appeared, laughing, to pull Laurel into a hug.
“I don’t understand....” Her brain still not firing on all cylinders, Laurel edged farther into the room. “How—?”
“Tyler,” Kelly said, and Laurel’s eyes cut to hers.
“This was Tyler’s idea?”
“Yep. He said you needed a real party. And since apparently what I had in mind wasn’t meeting his exacting standards...” She waved her hand toward the room. “Bam.”
“Wait—” Laurel whipped around to Gran. “So your foot—?”
Gran actually cackled. “I’m thinking of a second career as an actress. Whaddya think?”
“So I assume your dishwasher is fine, too.”
“Couldn’t be better.” Grinning, she poked Laurel in the arm. “Are we good, or what?”
Speaking of good... “So where’s Tyler?”
Kelly laughed. “It’s a baby shower, sweetie. No men allowed. Well, except George over there,” she said, nodding toward a blissful-looking, white-haired black gentlemen, who looked to be in the neighborhood of a hundred and fifty.
“Yeah, George goes to everything,” Gran said. “Says how else is he going to find his next wife?”
Laurel gawked at her grandmother, then sharply shook her head. “Well, if George can come, then Tyler can, too.” Digging in her purse for her phone, she edged toward the breezeway leading from the clubhouse to the pool. “Tell everyone I’ll be there in a sec. They can start in on the food without me...”
The instant Tyler answered, Laurel’s throat clogged. But she pulled herself together enough to push out, “You get your butt over here immediately, Tyler Noble! Capice?” Then she ended the call, but not before she heard him laugh.
Which was right around the time she realized her heart had apparently said “See ya!” to her brain and was merrily skipping down the primrose path.
Oh, no, you don’t, she thought, and yanked it right back.
Where it looked up at her, pouting like a petulant child.
* * *
If somebody’d told Tyler back in June he’d be spending this particular Saturday evening helping two women organize a nursery, he would’ve wondered what they’d been smoking. But here he was, shoving piles of freshly washed baby clothes into drawers and threading a mesh bumper through the crib’s rails and finding someplace to stack enough diapers, it seemed to him, for ten babies.
It was a little overwhelming, to be honest. And he wasn’t even having the kid. As opposed to Laurel—wedged into the gliding chair in the corner by the window, both hands planted on her enormous belly as she wearily told him and her grandmother where she wanted stuff—who was. And who still looked like she was gonna cry. Although from happiness, shock or sheer terror, Tyler wasn’t sure. But then, Laurel probably wasn’t, either.
“I can’t believe you called those wonderful people—and I quote, ‘a bunch of whining old biddies.’ For shame, Gran.”
From the other side of the room where she was hanging up the tiniest pair of overalls Tyler had ever seen, Laurel’s grandmother shrugged. “Okay, so I might’ve been wrong about that. Or having a bad day. It happens. But you should’ve seen them when the van let everybody off at Target—because a lot of ’em, they don’t drive anymore, but I couldn’t fit everybody in my car—and they all headed straight to the baby department. Like locusts.”
She hung up another tiny outfit, a preppie number with a little vest and tie. “But I don’t know why you’re so surprised, doll. You’ve always been so sweet to them...why shouldn’t they return the favor? Although I don’t know if anyone would’ve thought of it if you hadn’t,” she said to Tyler, shaking out a little blue snowsuit with Winnie the Pooh on the chest. “That was some great idea you had there. Not only did my baby get the party she deserved, but you gave a lot of old people something to focus on besides themselves. So win-win, right? And now I need to go. I didn’t realize it was so late, I don’t much like driving after dark these days. Unless you guys still need me—?”
“You go on,” Tyler said. “I got this.”
“Don’t you even try to get up,” the old gal said to Laurel as she sidestepped three laundry baskets filled with clean baby duds to lean over and give her granddaughter a hug and kiss. “You look beat. You feel okay?”
“I’m fine,” Laurel said with a tired smile. “Just so over being pregnant.”
“Three weeks?” her grandmother said.
“Not even that. Nineteen days. Eighteen, once we get past midnight.”
“Almost there, baby,” she said, giving Laurel’s h
and a squeeze. “You get some sleep, okay? And we’ll talk in the morning.” Then she turned to Tyler. “You’ll keep an eye on her for me, right?”
“Gran, honestly—”
“Absolutely,” he said to the or-else expression in front of him, giving the old gal a little salute before she finally left. “Now tell me how you really feel,” Tyler said when he was sure Marian was really gone.
“You have to ask?” Laurel said, letting her head drop back, her eyes drifting shut. “I’m glad you came to the shower.”
“Like I had a choice? I half thought if I didn’t you’d send a pair of Mafia goons after me. Or your grandmother. Which would’ve been much worse.”
Her eyes still closed, she softly laughed. “True.” Then she opened them and said, as she glanced around the room, yawning, “All of this... It makes it seem a lot more real.”
“More real than...that?” he said, pointing to her belly, and she smiled, rubbing the mound. Then she pulled the fabric of her shirt taut, watching it rise and fall and twitch. As did Tyler, fascinated.
“Oddly, yes. Go figure.” Then she lifted her gaze to him, her smile soft. “I did thank you, didn’t I?”
“Several times.”
“Oh, God—really? I swear, I’m afraid to go out in public anymore.” Her eyes closing again, she snuggled farther back into the cushions, her puffy feet propped on the matching ottoman. “Man, this thing is comfortable. And you should go home. Really. I can deal with the rest of this later. After...a nap...”
And just like that, she was out.
He watched her for a moment, his chest hurting for reasons he couldn’t even begin to explain. But he did know he didn’t want to leave. Didn’t feel like he should, even though he was right next door, right there if she needed him. And that Marian’s “order” had nothing to do with it.
Only, that feeling of wanting to stick around, to be with Laurel simply because he wanted to be with her... It scared the hell out of him. Because let’s be honest—this thing between them, this friendship...it was a stopgap thing. Nothing more. For both of them, he imagined. For sure, he’d never go back on any promise he’d made, to her or anybody. But neither did he make promises he couldn’t keep.
More Than She Expected Page 13
