“Hey!” I walked around the table and wrapped my arms around her. “I resemble that remark.”
“You know I’m teasing,” she said, cupping my face in her palm and kissing me softly. “You are a good man. And you’re going to be a great father. I’m just worried…”
“We’re about to be parents, Wills, I think we’ll always be worried about something,” I said. “But yes, I’ll talk to Mom. Do you want a cheetah or a lion next?”
“Lion,” she said, sliding to her feet. “And when Laura gets here, tell her I want to change the playroom to a safari theme to match the animals.”
“Will do,” I said, nodding as she waddled to the stairs. I sat down and blew out a heavy sigh. The women in my life were going to drive me crazy.
* * * *
“Yeah,” Laura said, looking around at the random collection of things in the room we’d decided to call the playroom. “I can make this look like a safari.” She made a note in her phone then smiled up at me. “Which room is going to be the aquarium?”
I laughed, but she just kept looking at me.
“What?” I asked, totally confused.
“The aquarium,” she repeated. “I’ve got to get the tanks on order, but I need to see the size of the space so I know which ones to go with.”
“Laura, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about. Is this something you and Willow talked about?”
“No, your mom said—”
“No,” I said, drawing the word out. “Uh-uh. No aquarium. And please don’t take directions from my mother anymore.”
“Hey, guys!” Willow said brightly, walking in and hugging Laura then me. “Do we have a vision for the room?”
“Sure do!” Laura agreed, smiling at Willow. “You look so beautiful. I can’t wait…” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, yup, we’re all set on the safari. The baby furniture for the nursery is due in tomorrow, so I’ll have one of the guys come and set it up for you.”
“No, I got it,” I said. “I’m going to build the furniture.”
“No,” the women said together, both of them staring at me.
“What?” I laughed. “I’m the dad here. I will set up the crib. It’s a rite of passage.”
“Jameson, you’ve never built so much as a card house,” Willow said, touching my arm softly.
“I own a construction firm,” I reminded both of them. “As does your husband, Laura.”
“Yeah, but you don’t do any of the actual building,” Willow said firmly. “Let’s just let the professionals do this, okay? I mean, our baby is going to sleep in it.”
“I’m not going to hurt our baby,” I promised. “Chase will come over, and we’ll do it together. It will be good practice for him.” She still looked unconvinced, so I changed the subject.
“Mom tried to get Laura to build an aquarium in one of the rooms,” I said, my tone as shocked as I could make it sound.
“Ooh!” Willow squealed, clapping her hands. “That will be so cool. Come on, Laura. Let’s go pick a room. I’m thinking saltwater. We can hire someone to take care of that, right?”
I stared after them, unable to believe what I’d just heard. After all of Willow’s bitching about my mom interfering and overspending… She was going to let her build a saltwater aquarium in our house.
But, on the plus side, it sounded like I wouldn’t have to talk to my mother after all.
Chapter Thirteen
~ Willow Tate-Should-Be-Malloy ~
“Jameson!” I screeched from the living room, bent over at what used to be my waist. My knees buckled, and I could barely keep upright while I clenched the back of a club chair.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, this hurts like a mother… Where the hell was that man? This was not happening. I still had two weeks, I still had to pack my hospital bag, I had a clownfish delivery coming today… And now I had a puddle of water at my feet, and I was soaked. This was not how they wrote about it in books. Total bullshit.
“God damn it, Jameson,” I screamed. “Get in here, or I’m freaking leaving you!”
Not that I could leave if I wanted to, which was why I was bellowing for him. I didn’t think I could move from this spot without falling as pain clamped around my middle and radiated outward. I mean, I knew childbirth was painful but, sweet Mother of God… I needed the drugs. All the drugs.
“What?” Jameson panted, skidding into the room. He took one look, and his eyes went wide as if he’d encountered a scene from The Shining or something. Of course, my position, my white-knuckled grip on the chair, the amniotic fluid all over the marble floor, seeping toward the Oriental rug, gave him a clue. “Oh my God,” he gasped, going white.
“I swear to God, Jameson, if you faint and leave me alone in this, you’re going to be living in the pool house.”
“It’s time?” he asked, clearly trying to gather himself.
“No, I just thought we should do a fucking dry run. What do you think?” I growled as the pain edged up again.
“Doesn’t look very dry,” he commented, recovering enough to come toward me and swing me carefully into his strong arms.
“You’re going to get all wet,” I muttered, burying my face in his neck. Being cuddled close to him made me forget I was ready to plot his murder for the very wet comment. At the moment, he was the most comforting thing in my life. My hands clenched into his shirt as he walked, my mouth pressed to his shoulder.
“Doesn’t matter. You okay?” he asked. He grabbed a throw off the couch and wrapped it around me, moving the whole time.
“It hurts,” I whined.
“We’ll get you drugs as soon as we can,” he said gently.
“Okay,” I agreed as he placed me in the BMW crossover he’d gotten last month and fastened me in. He’d claimed it was
