Page 100 of Finding Peace
That thought hits me next.
This hardly fits the five of us as it is. Add pregnancy pillows? A growing belly? A bassinet parked next to it? Hell, we might as well knock out a wall.
Christ.
Where are we putting a nursery?
Do we convert my office downstairs?No.Who puts their kid on the main level? What if there’s an intruder?
Maybe two of us could share a room? Probably Lawson and I. Even though none of us has shared a room since we lived with my parents.
Fuck my life. My parents.
How are we going to tell them? In person or over dinner? Or do we just let Beau accidentally blurt it out?
What if they’re disappointed?
What if they—
No.
They won’t be. Deep down, I know it.
But still…
What if?
By the time I step into the hallway, my brain is already making a list.
Make a plan to build a nursery.
Research the best OB in the area.
Security upgrade.
Prenatal vitamins.
Figure out how to tell our parents.
Find a bigger fucking bed.
I head downstairs, my head still spinning, and find Lawson doing exactly what I expected him to be doing.
Stewing.
He’s sitting at the kitchen island. Elbows on the counter. Coffee in hand. Eyes focused on nothing.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask, grabbing a mug.
He snorts. “Once I woke up, my mind wouldn’t stop—”
“Spiraling,” I finish for him.
“To put it mildly.”
I pour my coffee and sit beside him. We don’t speak for a second. All of us just enjoying this rare moment of quiet in the house.
“We’re going to be dads,” I say finally.
