Page 65 of Blueline Baby

“This is the one thing I don’t get to know ahead of time. And for the first time in my life I want to be surprised. That’s all I’m asking for, just this one.”

She’s quiet for a long moment considering everything I just told her.

“You’re supposed to be the impulsive, reckless one,” she says finally. “This role reversal is very confusing for me.”

“Yeah, well. You’re rubbing off on me. It’s a nightmare.” Her breath comes out almost a laugh. “The envelope stays shut. We’ll find out when they’re here.”

“Okay.” She presses her forehead into my chest. “Okay. But then you have to agree to do something for me, if we’re not opening it.”

“Anything.”

“You have to pick out girls’ names. Real ones. Because you walk around talking Russell-this and Russell-that like it’s an established fact, and it decidedly is not. If she comes out a girl, I’m not letting you stand there with zero plan, looking at me like I tricked you.”

“It’s a boy.”

“Jack!”

“Okay, okay.” I steer her by the shoulders back toward the bedroom, because she’s swaying on her feet. “Girls’ names. Fine. Give me one.”

“You give me one. That’s the point.”

I think about it the whole walk down the hall. The best I’ve got by the time we hit the mattress is, “Bobby Orr was a legend.”

“That is a man. That’s a grown man’s name.”

“Bobbi. With an i. That makes it a girl’s name.”

“It absolutely does not.”

“He’s the greatest defenseman who ever played, Chloe. It’s a respectable name for a baby. Girl or boy.”

I pull her in against my chest and lie there in the dark, listening to her breathing even out, wide awake in the best possible way.

Thursday is practically tomorrow.

30

CHLOE

JACK RUSSELL ANDERSON

I wake up before my alarm on the morning of my wedding with Jack’s arm heavy over my waist and his breath slow against the back of my neck.

We’re getting married today. I lie still and wait for the panic that’s supposed to happen with a thought like that, the way I’ve been waiting for it since Monday. What happens instead is Jack stirring behind me, pulling me back into his chest before he’s even awake enough to know he’s doing it.

“What are we doing today,” he mumbles into my hair.

“We have a wedding to go to.”

“Mm. Whose wedding? Anyone I know?”

I lace my fingers through his where they’re resting against my stomach, and I let a minute go by, and then I ask the question I’ve been saving.

“Jack. What’s your middle name?”

He goes still behind me. It’s slight, but I catch it, the way his breathing changes.

“Why?” he asks, too casual.