“You tap the baby gently.” Connor demonstrates by tapping the baby’s shoulder and the bottom of her foot. “Magdala. Magdala. Can you hear me?”
Rose scoffs from her chair. “I got rid of my middle name because I hated it, not so we can name our child Magdala.”
“Rose Calloway Cobalt,” Connor says her full name, ditching Magdala and replacing it with Calloway. No hyphenation. She’s been Cobalt since she married Connor. “Like Lo said, this is pretend. I can name our pretend daughter whatever I want.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically and waves him on. “Please, continue. I hope our pretend daughter pukes on your shoulder.”
Connor grins, and before he opens his mouth to respond, I redirect the conversation. “Back to the training,” I announce. This is important to me. I really do want to know the information before Maximoff arrives. “We tap the baby and call out its name. Then what?”
“If the baby is unresponsive, you call 911. And then you place him or her on a hard flat surface.” He motions to the coffee table in the middle of the circle. “And you start CPR.” Connor takes us through the steps: thirty chest compressions with our fingers, opening the airway, and administering rescue breaths. I file all the information into the important—don’t ever forget folder in my head.
My heart beats loudly in my chest. Okay, I can do this. I internally nod, boosting some of my self-confidence. I can’t be declared a bad mom until I do something wrong. So Celebrity Crush and their polls can suck it.
I blow out a breath, and then I lightly tap Bert’s foot. “Bert? Bert?” I say. “Can you hear me?”
“Bert?” Lo laughs at my name choice.
My brows pinch. “What’s your baby’s name?” Bert is awesome. He’s already a winner. I can feel it.
Lo holds his doll to his ear, as though listening to him speak. He’s teasing me, and I find myself hooking a finger through Lo’s belt loop, holding Bert in the crook of my arm. “Knew it,” Lo says with a nod, bringing his baby back down.
“What’s his name?” I already feel myself smiling.
“Ernie,” he says, and my heart swells. And then he taps his baby’s arm. “Ernie, buddy? Can you hear me?”
The doorbell rings, and I jump in fright. “Who is it?” I ask.
Everyone shakes their heads like they didn’t invite someone over today.
Connor sets his doll on the table and then disappears in the foyer to answer the door. The room is layered with tense silence. Since we’re all here, the person outside is most likely a bearer of bad news. Why else would they stop by?
{ 28 }
LILY CALLOWAY
“Do you need a hand with that?” I hear Connor say.
“No, I have it.”
I recognize the second manly voice: Sam Stokes. And in a second, both guys emerge in the living room, Sam carrying a box with Fizzle’s logo on the side. He’s in a suit like he’s been at work all Saturday afternoon.
“Hey,” he greets, but his gaze lands on Ryke, heading over to him. “The shipment came in today, and we’ll need to talk later about the unveiling.” He sets the box at Ryke’s feet and squats down to open it. I remember Ryke mentioning that my dad wanted his help, but he shrugged it off and said it wasn’t going to pan out.
So his face is darkened with confusion.
I find myself patting my doll’s butt in comfort, like Bert is alive. My cheeks heat, hoping no one noticed.
“He really wants to go through with this?” Ryke asks Sam. “It’s a fucking bad idea.”
“It’s not,” Sam says, trying to cut through the taped package by ripping at it. He struggles as he talks. “We did multiple focus groups, and more people were drawn to the product when you were the face of it.”
“I was dropped by multiple fucking brands,” Ryke reminds him. “My image isn’t good, and I shouldn’t be representing any kind of drink.” Huh. My dad is creating a new drink?
Sam stops fighting with the box and looks up at Ryke. “You’re masculine, athletic and you never quit, which is what we’re branding. If you don’t want to help, all you have to do is say so. Don’t waste my time.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Daisy chimes in. “Not for me.”
Sam catches sight of Daisy, and his eyes grow big at her hair. “That’s a…new color.”
“Neon I’m-Going-to-Blind-You Yellow,” Lo adds. “What’s terrifying is that some girl is probably going to copy her.”