Coda Books 06 - Fear, Hope, and Bread Pudding (MM)

nothing to worry about.”
    “Silly me.”
    Still, I was concerned, not about what he might buy her, but about how much it would break his heart if the whole thing fell through. I believed that Taylor had every intent of letting us adopt her daughter, but nothing was certain until the paperwork was signed.
    Cole must have seen my worry in my eyes because he said, suddenly serious, “I know, Jonny.” He turned back to her. “I mean it, honey. Is there anything at all you need?”
    “Not like you mean, but I would like to spend a bit more time with you both before the delivery, if that’s okay. It would be good for her to hear your voices, unless—”
    “Of course! We’re always here. I cook dinner every night.”
    “I don’t want to intrude—”
    “Don’t be silly. You’re welcome any time.”
    She still had her hand on her side. Her smile turned shy. “She’s kicking. Do you want to feel it?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She took his hand and placed it on her belly. “Here. Give her a second.”
    It took longer than a second, but even from across the room, I knew when the baby moved. Cole jumped, and in the very next moment, he laughed with delight. It was the happiest, most genuine sound I’d heard in ages. “Oh my goodness, that’s amazing. Jonny, come here.”
    I wasn’t sure she wanted my hand on her stomach too, but I went to sit on the floor next to him. I put my hand next to his, and we all sat there, waiting for the baby to move again. I felt ridiculous until it happened. The baby moved. Taylor’s flesh seemed to roll under my palm. It startled me so much that I jerked my hand away. My heart skipped a beat. I laughed, exactly as Cole had done, and put it back again immediately, waiting for the next kick. It wasn’t as if I’d been oblivious of the child growing in her womb, but there was something so pure and so magical about feeling her move. Knowing she was in there, safe and warm, pushing back against the walls that held her, feeling our touch as we felt hers. She moved again, and I looked at Cole. He was watching me, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so full of hope. His eyes were brimming with tears, but this time, he didn’t try to hide them.
    I put my free arm around him and pulled him close. I kissed the side of his head.
    “Jon,” he whispered. “We’re going to have a daughter.”

    H AVING Taylor at our house in the evenings became the norm. It wasn’t uncommon for me to find her and Cole seated in that same spot, Taylor in the easy chair and Cole on the ottoman with his hands on her belly, talking to her stomach. Half the time he was speaking French, but not always. “And when you’re sixteen,” I heard him say one day, “I’ll buy you a Corvette.”
    “Oh, good Lord!” I said. “Absolutely not.”
    He laughed and continued to talk to Taylor’s belly. “Daddy’s right. That wouldn’t be safe at all, would it?”
    Daddy. The word brought me up short. Was that going to be me?
    I still worried that he’d get his hopes up only to have them shattered, but his happiness was contagious. I loved seeing him bright and smiling again. The best part of all was the way the door to the empty room at the end of the hallway was suddenly open. The room still held every bit of his hope, but for now, the fear was on a back burner. He spent hours agonizing over which crib and dresser and changing table to buy. Then he began to decorate. First, he did the whole room in red and navy blue, because he’d read somewhere that babies learned to focus on primary colors first. No sooner was it done than he was dismantling it again.
    “It was like a political race gone wrong,” he said. “I have no idea what I was thinking.”
    Next, he did the entire nursery in light pink. Pink ruffles and pink ribbons and pink blankets. I thought it was cute, but he still wasn’t satisfied. “It’s rather constrictive, isn’t it? I mean, what if she wants to be a tomboy?”
    “I don’t think having a pink room before she’s even old enough to crawl will hurt anything.”
    He shook his head, unconvinced. “No. It feels wrong, Jonny. I won’t be the one who tells her baseball’s out and dolls are in.” The next day, all the pink went back to the store, and he began again. I stayed out of his way unless directed otherwise.
    I came in from a run one evening to find Taylor in the living room. Both Cole and my father were bent over her, feeling her belly. If it had been me, I