When Girlfriends Step Up (35 page)

The girls and Bobby continued their toasts, admiring Rose, stroking her cheek, and kissing her small, bald head.

“I love you, Rosie,” I whispered, kissing the tip of her button nose. “I love you with all my heart. And I’m going to be the best mom you could wish for.”

Bobby massaged my right shoulder, sipping on his champagne and looking fondly at the two of us. “My lovely leading ladies,” he said, giving me a soft peck on the forehead.

Two nurses returned to the room, one with a vase filled with brightly colored garden flowers, a balloon bearing the word,
Congrats!
attached, and the other nurse pushing a large cart carrying a machine that looked like a breast pump.

“What’s this?” Claire gasped. “More flowers?”

“Oh, these must be from Kaitlyn. Maybe she got your voicemail.” I reached out for the nurse to hand me the card.

“I’m sorry, dear,” the nurse said. “No card attached. They came directly from the hospital gift shop. By pre-order, I think.”

“That’s odd,” I said. “Couldn’t be Mom, could it? Or Dad?” I looked from Bobby, to the girls, then back to Bobby. “Could you find out for me, please?” I asked the nurse.
 

“While we find out the mystery delivery,” the other nurse said, “Robin and I need to get little Rose to breastfeed.”

Bobby gave me one more kiss before following the rest of the pack out of the room.
 

After what must have been a dozen failed attempts at getting Rose to latch on and breastfeed, she finally did it! When the nurse and I thought we’d give the breast pump a try so that way Rose wouldn’t have to have another feeding of formula, and so I could actually give a go at this whole breastfeeding thing, Rose figured it out.

“She’s a smart baby,” the nurse said.

“Robin?” the nurse who had come in with the mystery flowers asked, peeking her head into the door.

“Yes?”

“I called down to the gift shop and it seems that these flowers were on order since June. To be delivered to a Robin Sinclair whenever she gave birth.”

I scratched my head, perplexed, and careful not to disturb Rose, who was suckling as best she should.

“That’s so odd,” I said. “Surely they’re not from my mom…or my dad.”

“Gift shop says they’re from a…Mr. Brandon Crossley.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

I didn’t tell anyone what the nurse that day had told me—about who had sent me the mystery flowers. There was no card attached, and probably for good reason. Brandon didn’t want me to know they were from him, or didn’t want to be too obvious that…what? He actually had a sensitive and caring bone in his body? I didn’t see the need to tell anyone about it and draw up some unnecessarily dramatic issue. They’d soon forgotten about the mystery flowers, and I figured if anyone asked I’d say they were from my dad or something.
 

And I didn’t want to bring up the topic of Brandon with Bobby. Besides, Brandon wasn’t a part of my life, or a part of Rose’s. Why would I even mention the gifting of anonymous flowers only to possibly set Bobby off? Or maybe even cause a rift in our relationship or open the door to pointless questioning about Brandon. About that night I’d spent with him. About how I was without Brandon’s help and support from the start. About how we agreed he’d be out of my and Rose’s lives forever. Why start something that wasn’t? I had a great thing going with Bobby, and nothing could spoil it, not even a meaningless vase of flowers from an anonymous man who never wanted Rose, or me, from the start.

I’m still curious as to why Brandon arranged for those flowers to be sent, though. Mad curiosity grips me whenever I’m up for a midnight feeding with Rose. I wondered where Brandon was. Already in New York? On the plane ride there? Already shacking up with some new girl? I thought about him not because I cared for him, or had some flighty hope of having him back in my life or in Rose’s, but because, I guess, the flowers he had sent me must have meant
something
. But what? Why would he send them if his only interaction with Rose, and with me upon hearing I was pregnant with his child, was to offer me enough cash to terminate my pregnancy? Why would he even bother with flowers? Guilty conscience? Change of heart? An offering gift in hopes of cleaning his slate?
 

As it turns out, I think the gift of flowers, however nonchalantly scheduled, was a preview of what was to come. Two weeks after Rose’s birth, a piece of mail arrived for me at the apartment, with a return address from New York, New York. It was a check from Brandon for a thousand dollars, and a handwritten note on a torn off piece of scratch paper, as if an afterthought, that read,
Will send more when I can. Brandon

Still in shock, perhaps more in shock than I was over the mystery flowers, I opened up a bank account in my and Rose’s name the day after the check arrived. Rose, like every girl, needed a little mad money…or college cash. Whatever she wanted to do with it when she became old enough was up to Rose. I didn’t urgently need Brandon’s handouts, but I’d be a fool if I didn’t take them. If I didn’t give Rose the least of what her birth father could do for her.

Kaitlyn came to the apartment to meet baby Rose as soon as she was back from vacation. And Mom even planned for a weeklong trip to Seattle at the end of January. Of course, I told Kaitlyn
she
would have to host Mom. Mom could come over when she wanted to help me out, see her grandchild, and fulfill the grandmotherly duties she said she should do. But she’d have to stay at Kaitlyn’s place. A little of Mom can go a long way.

Dad finally emailed me back with congratulations, and that was that. Hey, oddly enough Brandon was actually turning out to be a better father than my own. But as soon as I saw Bobby (and we still made sure we managed a few date nights a week, even if that meant staying at home with baby Rose) I pushed any and all thoughts of Brandon from my mind. Bobby was the man in Rose’s life. He may not have been her father, but he was my boyfriend, and with me came little Rose. Bobby told me he’d have it no other way.

Time flew by—having an infant who cries for a feeding every couple hours through the night makes time seem nonexistent. All my days blended into one and I was constantly tired, even though Bobby and the girls helped out as much as they could. Rose needed me for feedings at all times, though, so if I wasn’t pumping breast milk in order to jet out for a quick dinner date with Bobby, I was feeding Rose. Or rocking her to sleep. Or singing to her, giving her sponge baths, reading to her, even going for short walks with her in the park.

Before I knew it, Christmas had come and gone (and my bedroom quickly seemed too small for the hoards of toys Rose received from Saint Nick and all her aunts), and New Years Eve was tonight! Bobby had put up a fight about the all-girls New Years Eve party we planned to have at the apartment. I promised him we’d share the next New Years Eve together, and he still gave the classic argument that the New Years holiday, once the clock struck midnight, was
the
night you had to receive your special kiss. It set the precedent for the year’s romance.
 

“You plan on going somewhere next year?” I asked him. “Rose and I too much to handle?”

He caught my chiding. “Fine, then. You have your girls-only time this year. But
next
year you’re mine. No arguments.”

“I promise.”

“Why are you doing an all-girls thing, anyway?”

I laid Rose gently down in the lace-covered bassinet I kept right next to my bed. She bunched her knees upward, then sprawled out and made the sweetest sigh as she drifted off to sleep.

“Because,” I whispered, shooing Bobby out of the room. “We promised one another last year that if any of us were single during New Years, we’d have a girls-only party. Sister support.”

He grumbled as I closed the door behind me and turned on the baby monitor—my second cell phone.

“And since Lara and Sophie and Emily are single, we’re having our party.”

“You’re not inviting strippers or anything like that?” Bobby raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

I gave him a soft slug in the shoulder and told him, “We save those kinds of things for bachelorette parties. Now come on. Go on home and I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re still coming over for a special New Years Day dinner?”

“I suppose…” He winked.

“Because you better. I’m really looking forward to my date with my super sweet and handsome boyfriend.” I lured myself closer to Bobby, resting my hands on his waist, and leaning in for a kiss. He pulled me in to him and warmed my lips with a tantalizing kiss. I hadn’t been kissed by Bobby like this in a while. Rose always demanded my attention; I was exhausted; the holidays left me even more scatterbrained…but this kiss. Wow. This kiss was…

“You okay?” he whispered, carefully drawing out of the tongue-twisted kiss that left me feeling listless.

“Oh, more than okay,” I said, smiling ear-to-ear.

I heard Lara walk into the living room and brought myself down from heaven.

Definitely more than okay.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said, stealing one more kiss from me. “See ya, Lara. Have a happy New Year. And you girls don’t have too much fun without me.”

***

“To a
fabulous
and
fan-damn-tastic
new year, my ladies!” Jackie said, knocking back her martini. “And to a past year that, despite all the hurdles and drama and, well,
shit
, was a really kickass year.”

“Ditto that one,” Claire said, taking a sip of her cocktail.

“May next year be as equally amazing! And, you know, minus the crap.” Sophie unofficially toasted. “And now our group of girls is
seven
.”

“Rose is pretty awesome,” Lara said, lightly tickling Rose’s small belly. Rose kicked at her soft touch, making the cutest gurgling and bubbly noises.

“I can’t believe she’s going to be a month old in a few days,” Claire said. “It seems like yesterday we were having the girls’ night when you told us you were preggers.”

“Yeah, and now look at her!” Jackie exclaimed. “Rose is the most perfect baby. She’s beautiful and easygoing. She’s definitely one of the girls already. Aren’t you, little bubby?”

Rose made more bubbles.

“Hey, it’s almost midnight!” Emily said, topping everyone’s glass off with more champagne, mine with sparkling water.

“Em, why are you leaving us so soon?” I whined. Emily was already due to head back to Ghana the day after New Years. We’d all gotten accustomed to her being back in town and hanging out with us as much as possible; she’d been a huge help with Rose, coming to the apartment nearly every day.

“They need me over there,” Emily said.

“We need you here, too,” Claire said.

“I know, but you all have each other. And I’ll be back soon enough. They really need my help there. I can’t turn my back on them.”

“No chance of us talking you into staying here?” Lara asked.

“Yeah. No chance?” I said in my baby voice, waving Rose’s hands at Emily. “Pwease, Auntie. Stay.”

“Oh, girls. I’ll be back soon enough. I always am. You know that.”

“Midnight! We’re almost there!” Sophie said, pointing a wagging finger at the TV. The ball in New York’s Time Square had begun to drop, the countdown on. Ten, nine…

I started to think about New York, about who was there this busy night. I looked down at Rose, who was occasionally pulsing her legs and kicking her feet, as if in her own fit of holiday celebration. Then I thought, only fleetingly, about Brandon. In New York. New career. New life. Seattle becoming a distant memory. Everyone in Seattle forgotten.

“Six, five…” the girls chorused.

And I gave myself until the count of three to put all thoughts of Brandon behind me. A new year. A new start. A new life.

“Two! One! Happy New Year!”

We clinked glasses, the TV screen lit up with fireworks and sparklers. Baby Rose was looking up at me with her bright eyes. The muffled melody of “Auld Lang Syne” began to sound among the cheers and hollers from New York and Seattle, coursing around the walls of my new home—
our
home. The home that Lara and I made for Rose, and where six best friends and a baby rang in the new year, girl style.

Epilogue

“You got the candles, right?” I ask Lara as she sets the groceries on the kitchen counter. “Little pink ones?”

“Yup, little pink ones with white stripes.”

“And Sophie’s got the cake?”

“Cupcakes,” Lara says, trying to catch her breath. She’d made it home less than thirty minutes before the crowd was supposed to arrive for Rose’s party.

“Excellent!” I say. “Rose’s one-month birthday is going to be so much fun. A great excuse for us all to get together. And I’m excited Chad and Conner and Bobby are coming, too! And Kaitlyn! It’ll be so much fun.” I add a smattering of lip gloss and rub at my cheeks to bring about a hint of color. “And Rose just needs her party dress on and we’ll be good to go.”

Lara puts the ice cream into the freezer, then follows me into my room where Rose has been taking her second nap of the day.

“Can we wake her?” Lara whispers. She peers over my shoulder as I open the bedroom door.

“If she’s down for a good party like us, she’ll be wide awake and ready to go,” I say. I can’t help but smile brightly as Lara and I step into the room and I see my baby girl, wide-awake and gnawing on her tiny fist.

My daughter Rose is already one month old, and growing strong and healthy. She’s beautiful and is going to grow up with some amazing female influences. Lara already said she’d make sure Rose knew the importance of establishing a firm presence in the office—make it known that at work she was all-business. Rose could be anyone and do anything she wanted in life, and no competitive rivalry or hotheaded boss could tell her otherwise. For the powerful career woman skills, Lara wanted to take charge.

Sophie said she’d teach Rose how to make the most succulent desserts and the flakiest croissants this side of the Atlantic, while Claire promised she would teach her all about proper puppy care and how to knit or DIY just about anything.

Emily promised she’d teach Rose all about geography, the various cultures of the world, and how to capture it all on camera. Jackie, God bless her, charged herself with the role of teaching Rose the art of landing a man “at any time, any place, any way. Guaranteed.” I figure once Rose reaches the dating age we’ll discuss Aunt Jackie’s methods further—alterations may need to be applied.