6. Sasha’s Star is Born

SIX

SASHA’S STAR IS BORN

A s soon as we arrive at home, I slip out of my shoes. Aah, instant relief. My feet look slightly puffy and they feel sore like I’ve been stepping on rocks. Pregnancy has turned walking into a sport, and frankly, I’m not an athlete.

Gabe’s already in the kitchen, ready to make good on his promise to feed me. That’s when I remember the little something extra I hid behind last night’s leftovers. Ever since we found out about the baby, Gabe has been really focused on making sure we’re eating healthy. It’s wonderful that he’s so invested and that he’s determined to eat healthy with me.

But sometimes a girl needs cheesecake.

Maybe he won’t find it. It’s still wrapped in the paper bag it came in and it’s behind a large container of leftover chowder.

His voice floats in from the kitchen. “Nice of you to pick up dessert. I’m assuming you got two slices so you can share?”

I roll my eyes, before settling on the couch. “Sorry. I didn’t get enough.”

“But there are two slices,” he calls out.

“One for me. And one for the baby. They need the nutrients.”

He pops his head around the corner. “Cheesecake is a nutrient now?”

I stick out my tongue. “It has calcium. It should probably be its own food group, actually.”

“Right. Well, I’ll make sure you get your calcium after we have these boneless skinless chicken breasts and some broccoli rabe. I found a great recipe for it online.”

His voice trails off as he wanders back to the kitchen. I’m about to curl up under a throw blanket and take a little nap when I see a small, wrapped box on the coffee table.

My brows knit together. “Gabe? Did you leave this here?”

He appears behind the couch. “Oh. Yeah.”

“It’s a little early for gifts.” I narrow my eyes. “You’re sticking to the budget, right?”

He pointedly doesn’t meet my gaze. “Well, that’s not a Christmas gift. It’s more of a... Tuesday gift.”

“ Gabriel .” I try to sound stern, but the fact that he looks like a naughty little boy makes it hard.

He slides the box toward me. “Just open it.”

The box is wrapped in black paper and tied with such an elaborate red bow that I instantly know he didn’t wrap this. The bow comes undone with one yank, and then I rip the paper off. Gabe chuckles at my enthusiasm as I lift the lid of the box underneath. Inside is a pair of sneakers, so small they look like they would only fit on a doll.

Suddenly my heart feels like it’s too big for my chest. “Oh, Gabe. Look at how tiny they are.”

He leans over the couch. “Cute, right? I figured our little troublemaker could use some stylish kicks. You know, for when they’re kicking you.”

I can’t help but laugh, even as I playfully glare at him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.” He winks.

I cradle the itty bitty shoes against my chest. “I do. But don’t think this means you’re off the hook for the whole one-gift rule.”

He kisses my temple. “But this isn’t your gift. It’s the baby’s gift.”

“I can’t exactly argue with that logic, I guess.”

“Besides, I ordered that before you guys came up with that one-gift rule. I just forgot.”

“Uh huh. So, what else have you forgotten you ordered?”

Gabe scratches his chin. “Well, there was this one thing. I definitely didn’t order a life-size teddy bear for our future child.”

I just stare at him. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

He smiles sheepishly. “Guess you’ll find out on a random Tuesday in the future.”

“You know what, Tank isn’t the only one who has gone wild lately. He’s just more flamboyant about it.”

Gabe scowls. “I’m nowhere near as bad as Tank. The things that I buy are necessities.”

I turn around on the couch so I can see his face. “Necessities? You needed a separate garage for your cars?”

He nods. “That’s for security. And it’s a business expense.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to own less cars? Choose your favorites and then let the others go.”

He looks so stricken that I dissolve into laughter. You would think I told him to pick a favorite child.

“Sasha, I can’t pick favorites. They’re all special and they deserve good homes.”

I pat his arm consolingly. “Of course. You’re a good car daddy.”

He squats down next to the couch. “Do the cars really bother you that much? Maybe I don’t have to keep all of them.”

“Gabe, I was just kidding.” He suddenly looks so serious that I place a hand on his arm. “That would be like if you asked me to pick only one jazz standard to perform. I couldn’t do it either. Those cars are your babies.”

He puts a gentle hand on the curve of my stomach. “No, this is my baby. I just want to give you—and our little kicker—everything you deserve.”

“And you do,” I assure him, squeezing his hands. “We’re very lucky to have you in our lives. This baby is going to love you just as much as I do.”

He climbs on the couch and pulls me into a hug. With a sigh, I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I just want you to know that I’m taking this seriously,” Gabe continues. “I’ve been reading a parenting blog Tank recommended and I even ordered one of those slings so I can carry our little one around when they’re screaming at night.”

I lift my head to glare at him. “ Don’t even joke about that . Seven says she hasn’t slept in six months.”

He laughs. “I’m just saying. You’re not in this alone. I’m ready to be a father and I can handle it.”

“What’s brought this on? Unless there’s something else I don’t know about? Let me guess, the sneakers were just the beginning? What else did you buy for the baby?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nothing, I swear. I was just thinking that maybe you didn’t want to announce the pregnancy yet because you didn’t feel like we were ready.”

“Oh Gabe. It’s not that I don’t want to announce it.” He’s watching me so expectantly but I’m not sure how to explain it to him.

My husband, despite his challenging childhood, has always moved through life with unshakable confidence. He has probably never felt like he was a screw up or like he couldn’t achieve things that seem so easy for everyone else. The only thing that ever held him back was lack of money, an obstacle that he no longer has to work around. With the Marshall billions behind him, he is untouchable.

That’s not something I feel, even now. No matter how successful I have become, or what I achieve, I always have my mother’s voice in the back of my head making me feel like I should have done it differently.

Once we announce this pregnancy, it’ll be my childhood all over again. My mother is going to try to take over everything from my diet to the nursery decorations. And once she finds out I plan to continue working, I expect that to turn into a full-scale war.

I’m not sure I have the energy for that yet.

“So I was thinking,” Gabe continues, “that since we haven’t made an announcement yet, that Christmas would be the perfect time. Everyone will be together so we can tell them all at once.”

My heart skips. “Christmas? But that’s next week.”

Gabe tilts his head. “If we wait any longer, people will start guessing. Especially when they notice you’re not drinking any champagne.”

I try to keep my face smooth, but it's like he's got a sixth sense.

“Aha!” He points at me in triumph. “It’s already happened, hasn’t it? Who did you tell?”

“Brenna guessed. She’s my sister, she knows what I normally look like. Apparently my skin is glowing and—” I cup my hands in front of my now much larger chest,“—other things have changed.”

He nuzzles my cheek. “I just want to share the joy with everyone. Your family will be there and so it’s perfect. We can tell them all at once. My brothers would have felt bad if they were the last to know.”

Aaaand that’s an instant guilt trip.

“Okay. Let’s announce it on Christmas.”

His face lights up. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” I can't help but smile back, his enthusiasm infectious.

“We’re going to give them the best Christmas gift ever. A new family member. You’re the star, so I’ll let you make the announcement.”

“Oh joy,” I mutter under my breath.

This is one time that I would actually prefer not to be the center of attention. My mother won’t make a scene in front of Gabe’s family but that doesn’t mean she won’t corner me the first chance she gets.

Gabe rests his head on top of mine. “Just think, next Christmas our little one will be crawling around.”

“I can’t wait,” I whisper back, and it’s the truth.

But it’s also true that I can’t wait for next Christmas because it means this particular performance will be over.