“Lost the battle, huh?”
Oakley rolled her eyes. “What do you want? I’m busy.”
I settled right back into teasing mode. “Wow, Oakley, that’s real friendly. Is that any way to talk to your partner?”
She huffed and shifted to the other foot. “It is when I’m ass deep in a craft project from hell.”
I stepped forward, crowding her so she’d step back and let me in. Worked like a charm. I shut her front door and spread my arms wide.
“I’m at your service. I happen to be excellent with a glue gun.”
She shook her head, but walked to the living room, giving me a view of her ass in yoga pants. And holy shit. The uniform had been hiding a juicy backside that should always be on display. The woman was short, but she made up for it with all the right curves. Maybe coming over to talk had been a bad idea after all. She sat on the floor and I tried to follow suit, but it took a lot of shifting to find a comfortable spot. Jeans, crisscross applesauce, and erections were not a good combo.
“What are we making here?” I distracted myself by taking inventory of all her supplies. A long mail tube, scissors, ribbon, a giant bag of glitter, a glue gun, and confetti. Everything was in a shade of pink that reminded me of the medicine my nanny used to give me when I was a kid every time I complained of a stomachache.
Oakley scrubbed two hands over her face and a puff of glitter fell off and into the carpet where it would remain for decades. “I have to make some sort of gender reveal glitter bomb.” Her lips flattened.
“You know those can be dangerous, right?”
She tipped her head to the side and deadpanned, “We shoot guns every day.”
I couldn’t help a smile. This was turning out to be fun. “True. But the implications of a glitter bomb are vast. That shit goes everywhere, and it never comes clean. Take yourself, for example.” I waved a hand down her person. “You’ll still sport glitter on Monday when you show up for work.”
Oakley’s jaw dropped. “No.”
I nodded sagely. “Sadly, yes. I can’t wait to hear the speculation as to how you got all glittered up.”
Oakley blew out a huge breath and put her hands to her head. “Listen. Let’s just get this done and then I’ll shower all weekend. It’ll be fine.”
I raised my eyebrows, knowing all the pep talks in the world wouldn’t make it come true, but really liking the idea of Oakley all naked in the shower. I’d been to plenty of drunken raves before with glitter shot in the air, and that shit doesn’t come off for days.
Oakley pulled up directions on her phone, which we followed. I got to man the glue gun, which made me very happy. We managed to get all the glitter, confetti, chalk, and the spring-loaded cap into the tube. Then we wrapped the ribbon around the outside, a mix of both blue and pink to keep the guests guessing. We had leftover sequins, which I brilliantly suggested we add to the outside of the tube to make our glitter bomb extra.
“Who’s this for again?” I asked as we waited for the glue to dry on the sequins.
Oakley got a smile on her face I’d never seen before. I listened closely, knowing whoever she was going to talk about was very important to her.
“My little sister, Amelia. She and her husband are expecting a baby, and I’m the one who got the call from the ob-gyn with the gender results. Amelia’s already come over with my favorite chocolates to bribe me into telling her.” She kept smiling but rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what the big deal is with these gender reveal parties. I mean, just find out the old-fashioned way if you want suspense. Why’s it gotta be a production?”
I chuckled, hoping none of my old friends started having babies and expected me to attend these kinds of parties. Babies were pooping, crying machines who made their parents so sleep deprived they couldn’t function. So why all the parties beforehand? Baby showers should be more of a somber social gathering. A funeral of sorts for losing their lives as they once knew them. Once the baby came, they could kiss goodbye all their hobbies, downtime, and sleep. Being festive seemed a little naïve, if you asked me.
“I’m with you on that. If I ever had a child, I don’t think I’d even have a baby shower. Instead of all the crap presents and food and decor, my friends could just buy me diapers, or vouchers for babysitting.”
Oakley tilted her head and turned that soft smile on me. “That’s exactly what I think too. Why host these ridiculous parties when what you’ll need is something far more practical?”
We shared a smile and, for once, the silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable or charged with something we both didn’t want to address. I put the glue gun down and looked at the checklist on her piece of paper. Seemed we had more to make than just a glitter bomb. She already had a long list of donations for a raffle prize, so that was one less thing we had to do.
“I have a small family. You?” I wrote my name down on the donations list for a bottle of Dom Perignon. Chicks liked that shit.
Oakley leaned back on her hands and stretched a leg out. “I have four sisters, all younger.”
I blinked. “There’s five of you? And you’re the oldest?”
She grinned even wider. “Yep. My parents kept trying for a boy. Eventually Dad said enough was enough and got my mom a male puppy for Christmas.” She laughed, and I memorized the sound of it. She didn’t do it often. “We’ve put more than a few gray hairs on their heads, that’s for sure. Amelia especially.”
“What do your parents do for a living?” I remembered Oakley saying law
