I almost stumbled at hisquestion.
Guess how many times I’ve been to hisapartment?
That’s right. Never. He’d always come to my place. Every. Single.Time.
I mean, if you didn’t count when I picked him up to go to the airport when we went to Australia, and then this morning when we went to the zoo. Both times he was waiting for me outside thebuilding.
“So has the hazmat team deemed it livable? Is that why it took so long for you to invite methere?”
He rolled his eyes. “It just seemed more convenient to go to your apartment. It’s closer to your job.” He had a point. But it wasn’t closer to where he trained during the off-season.
“I for one am excited to finally see your place. And I’m sure Junior is as well. Or he will be once he’s born.” I pressed the key fob to unlock the cardoors.
“Now that we know the gender, maybe it’s time we decide on a name for him. Because no way in hell are we calling him JoshJunior.”
I giggled. “How about Josh the Second?” I asked as I opened mydoor.
“And definitely notthat!”
Had to agree with himthere.
“I’m sorry I forgot to mention the barbecue,” he said at one point as we drove to hisbuilding.
Had it hurt when I first heard about it? Damn right it had. It was one more pain-in-the-arse reminder that I was just the dumb friend who had accidentally conceived hisbaby.
Yes, cue the violin music…and throw in a cello for addedeffect.
“That’s okay,” I said, sounding anything but okay. It was a good thing I hadn’t dreamed of one day making it big inHollywood.
“I had meant to tell you, but then you reminded me about the ultrasound and the barbecue slipped mymind.”
“You know what you should do? Program reminders into your phone. That’s what I do.” My phone was always buzzing to tell me what was next on my to-dolist.
Much to Trent’samusement.
Now if only I had scheduled “Pick up newcondoms.”
Guilt kicked me in the butt for even thinking that. Alongwith…
“Ohmigod,” I whispered, “I think the baby just kicked.” I placed my fingers where I had felt the faint movement. Likebubbles.
“Hopefully that doesn’t mean he’s going to play soccer instead of hockey,” Josh said with alaugh.
“Would that be a problem if he did?” I asked, hand back on the steering wheel. The kicking sensation had already vanished—much to mydisappointment.
“Not at all. If he doesn’t want to play sports and would rather spend the day playing with a calculator, I’d be fine with thattoo.”
“Ha ha. I don’t spend my day playing with a calculator.” I usually spent two-thirds of the day playing with it, but he didn’t need to knowthat.
“I just want him to be happy with whatever he chooses to do. I don’t want him feeling like he has to follow through onmydreams. He gets to have hisown.”
My ovaries melted at his words. Chalk it up as one more thing Josh and I had in common. We were both products of our own parents’expectations.
“Do you enjoy playing hockey?” I asked as we pulled up to his apartment building. It was newly constructed, modern, and the rents were probablyastronomical.
“I do,” he said. “I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. It’s my life. Turn right here.” He pointed to the entrance of visitor parking. “In the end, my father got that partright.”
I parked the car in a vacant spot, and Josh showed me around his building. And color me jealous. Hello, state-of-the-art fitness center. The building reminded me of Trent’s condo—designed for professionals, especially those withoutkids.
