Not Quite Perfect
Page 9

“Well, don’t keep us waiting,” JoAnne implored.
“Leo Michael Eddy.”
Mary caught Dakota’s gaze and smiled. “A strong, heroic name.”
Dakota winked and the memory of so many brainstorming sessions over names surfaced. Not for naming the baby, but for naming the heroes in Dakota’s books. At one point they’d brought up the name Leo, but Dakota hadn’t used it until now.
“We don’t have one Leo in the family.” JoAnne sounded unconvinced.
“Precisely,” Walt said to his mother.
One of the nurses stepped into the room, bringing another chair. “I’ll be taking baby Leo for his first bath in about half an hour,” she told them. “I know you’ve been waiting all day, but I’m going to have to boot you all to the door when I do.”
“We’re all shot anyway,” Monica told her.
“Not as shot as me.” They all chuckled at Dakota’s comment.
Walt lifted Leo from Dakota’s arms and walked to his mother.
While JoAnne and Dakota had had a rocky start, the two managed to bond during the holidays.
JoAnne pushed back in the chair and held out her arms. The second Leo was in them, JoAnne grew misty-eyed. “Aren’t you just the most beautiful boy.”
Mary took that moment to move beside Dakota.
“How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted.”
The gaggle of people centered around the baby, giving them a chance for a few quietly spoken words.
“How’s the leg?”
Dakota narrowed her gaze. “Freakin’ broken. How the hell am I going to manage a baby with a broken leg?” she whispered.
Mary looked around the room. “With lots of hands. Your mother will be here tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure that will be of any help.”
Mary held in a laugh. “I’m right across the street.”
Dakota placed her hand on hers. “I know. Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d fallen and you weren’t there.”
“You’d have crawled to the phone and dialed 911. It’s not like you’re ninety and had a stroke.”
“Still.”
Words between best friends weren’t needed, but always nice to hear.
“Have we figured out where everyone is staying tonight?” Walt asked when Leo had been passed to his father.
“I suppose we can get a hotel.”
“It’s a little late for that. I have a pullout in my living room.” Mary’s two-bedroom condo had her office space and her bedroom. She didn’t often have overnight guests, so the pullout was perfect. Dakota and Walt’s place was larger, but the nursery took up the guest bedroom.
“I’m staying here a little longer. Mom, Dad . . . you guys can take our room. I’ll crash on the couch when I get home.”
Mary glanced at Glen.
Glen in her space . . . how was that for irony? “Monica can bunk with me . . . you can take the pullout.”
“How can a man pass up an offer like that?”
“Perfect,” Monica said with a yawn. “The thought of dealing with a hotel this late sounds painful. I’ll call Jessie in the morning and book rooms at The Morrison for everyone.”
Once the sleeping arrangements were made, Mary switched car keys with Walt since he had the SUV he’d purchased just a month before in anticipation of Junior . . . ah, Leo. It was going to take some time to get used to calling Leo something other than Junior. Her compact car would be fine for Walt solo.
When the nurse made her second appearance, no one made her crack the visitor whip.
“You didn’t get to hold him,” Dakota noticed.
“I’m sure I’ll get my chance,” Mary said.
Walt returned Leo to Dakota’s arms and several cell phones came out to take pictures of the three of them.
“How do I look?” Dakota asked when Mary checked the picture.
“Like crap. But I’ll clean it up before I post it to your fans.” Yet one more thing Mary loved doing for Dakota and her famous author self.
“I love you.”
“I know.” Mary tucked her phone away and turned toward the door.
Glen had said very little while in the room and now stood by the door, waiting to leave.
He visibly shivered while they waited for the others to join them. “What’s the matter, Glen? Allergic to babies?”
“Maybe I’m cold.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
And he was. She’d yet to meet a player, especially one who had the gold card for the club, who didn’t run from single women with biological ticking clocks. Or a delivery room with a bitty bundle wrapped in a blanket.
“Not allergic,” he conceded. “Just not ready.”
She paused, met his gaze. “I think that’s the first honest thing I’ve heard pass your lips.”
For a brief moment he actually looked offended.
And for a brief moment, she felt bad for saying her thoughts aloud.
“Something I should probably work on.”
Mary didn’t own a cat.
It took every ounce of propriety to not point that out when he stepped into her home.
“The plumber was here working on the downstairs bathroom when I left with Dakota. I’m not sure it’s working.”
Mary pushed past him, turning on lights.
“We’ll make do,” Monica said as she set her small overnight case at the base of the stairs.