“I’m so glad you both can laugh at my expense. Payback is a bitch, just remember that,” I huff and walk away to add my presents to the Mt. Everest of wrapping paper.
Finding a seat closest to the My Little Pony inflatable scene, I only have seconds before I’m bombarded with the Emma and Grace duo. They’re covered in sparkles, topping off their ensembles are tiaras and feather boas, too.
“Aunt Jen, we’re going to smell and eat baby poop, you want to be on our team?” Emma asks.
“Yeah, my daddy says you’re good at eating poopy,” Grace adds.
I now have absolutely no regrets giving Brooks my present, but instead of saying anything about him, I merely smile at the girls. Casen sits down next to me, stifling a laugh and I shoot him my best death glare. He holds his hands up in surrender and turns his attention to the girls.
“So, you girls are going to play the smell the diaper game?” he asks them. “We would love to be on your team as long as you’ll share some girly party accessories with us. I think we need to match as a team, don’t you?”
Apparently he didn’t understand the meaning behind the death glare, so I hit him with it again. This time, he ignores the threat. The girls jump up and down and race inside to grab their best dress-up items to prepare us for the baby shower Olympics.
“Oh, lighten up,” he says once the girls are inside. “I would think playing dress-up with crowns and jewels would be your thing.”
“You know, your priority shouldn’t be getting the kids to like you, it’s supposed to be getting me to like you,” I tell him.
“I’m not too worried, you already like me,” he gloats, easing back in his chair and resting his arm on an inflatable.
“It will be worth it to see you dressed in feathers and makeup. Today we are going to test the boundaries of your masculinity.”
“Well, in that case, I’m going to seek out the other men folk and bulk up on testosterone before the bite-sized glitter girls wage siege on my manhood.” He kisses me and squeezes my thigh before leaving me alone to find Brooks and Brooks’ brother, Lakin.
The guys have folded Casen into the crew seamlessly. Everyone gets along and it feels like he’s one of us, not someone who’s casually stopping through, but actually belongs here. I can’t help but stare at him interacting with the other guys. I never would have thought I would be in this comfortable situation with a man, but surprisingly, I’m thankful it’s happened.
“He seems like a great guy,” Carly says, interrupting my stalker session and sitting down in Casen’s vacated seat.
“Who would have thought I would find someone willing to put up with my shit, and I would wait around long enough to let them,” I tell her with a smile.
She laughs, but it’s not the sincere giggle Carly is known for. There’s a sadness which surrounds her. I may be the bitch of the group, but I won’t ignore when something is bothering her. I’m sure being here around all of this baby mania after all the trouble she and Jack have had only adds to it.
“Where’s Jack?” I ask, noticing he’s not circling the grill with the rest of the guys.
“He couldn’t come,” she says, looking away from me. “He had to work.”
“On a Saturday? What in the hell’s going on, Carly?”
She takes a moment before responding. “I don’t know, Jen,” she finally says, turning to look at me. “Things haven’t been okay for a while. I don’t know what to do anymore.” Her watery eyes show the pain of the situation and I feel helpless to make it better for her.
I grab her hand and squeeze tightly. “Is it the baby thing, or is there something else going on?” I ask.
“You know, that’s what I thought the tension was stemming from, but I’m not so sure anymore. Jack won’t talk to me and he’s not home much.”
I realize what she’s implying and if it’s true, heaven help Jack. He won’t only need a good divorce attorney, he’ll need a bodyguard for the hit I’ll have taken out against him.
“Jack’s not stupid enough to think he could get away with something like that,” I insist.
“Maybe he doesn’t care if he gets caught,” she replies with a quiver of her lip. Someone catches her eye and she instantly changes her demeanor. I follow her line of sight and see Vivian and Campbell are headed in our direction, full of smiles and plates full of food.
“I don’t know what you two are gossiping about, but it’s present time. Get your asses in position for baby overload,” Campbell jests.
Vivian and Brooks find comfortable spots and begin ripping through the mountain of diapers, onesies, and receiving blankets.
“This one is from me,” I tell Brooks, sliding my special gift toward him. “And this little one is from Casen, he insists they go together,” I add.
His brows scrunch together, unsure of whether or not to risk public humiliation by opening his gift in front of everyone.
“Just open it,” I tell him when he continues to hesitate.
Slowly peeling away the blue wrapping paper, Vivian’s lips curl around her teeth, attempting to hold in her laugh when the gift is revealed. He looks to me for an explanation I’m surprised he needs.
“Vivian told us how you’re taking the plunge and getting the man marbles snipped. I thought a plastic dog cone would be a useful gift for your impending procedure. I had to go to three different vet clinics to find it.”
He pulls out the oven mitts with pictures of puppies on them and looks questioningly at me. “To keep your hands away from your battle wounds. Viv doesn’t need you scratching and popping a stitch.”
Our friends burst into laughter, although Brooks looks less than enthusiastic. “You’re time is coming, MacLauchlan, and I will be there waiting to embarrass the shit out of you,” he promises.
“Here, man. This might be a little more useful,” Casen tells him, handing him our smaller gift.
He shows less apprehension towards Casen’s gift, tearing it open. With a massive grin, he exposes the bottle of whisky. “Now that’s a useful gift!” he says excitedly. “Come on boys, these ladies can handle the rest of the gifts. Let’s go crack this baby open.”
Lakin and Casen follow Brooks into the house in search of glasses. “The games will start soon and I’ll be taking pictures, boys. Drunk or not, I expect a picture with your new gifts, Brooks,” I call after them.
As the glass doors open, laughter erupts at the sight of the guys. Emma and Grace, along with the little mini-tag-a-long, Olivia, lead the pack of fluffed and feathered, jeweled and manicured. We thought the men had gotten lost in sports conversations and booze. Apparently eye shadow and nail polish found them instead. I grab my camera and begin taking snapshots of the princess brigade.
“Aren’t they pretty?” Emma asks.
“Oh, they are gorgeous, cricket!” Vivian exclaims.
“Daddy said he wouldn’t dress up unless he got the purple boa. He said it looks the best with his dark hair,” Grace adds.
Brooks rolls his eyes and then twirls the feathers. “It brings out the blue in my eyes,” he says in a high-pitched tone.
“Your daddy always has been a bit of a diva,” Campbell says laughing. “But Casen and Lakin, what’s your excuse?”
“I wanted them to like me, and he was feeling left out,” Casen says pointing to Lakin.
“Hey now, I’m the cool uncle, I couldn’t leave my girls hanging. I’m manly, thank you very much; I do Kung Fu.” Lakin tries to plead his case, but fails miserably in his aqua-toned makeup and red-jeweled tiara.
“Whatever gets you through, Nancy,” I tell him as I click the camera.
“Hey there, sparkplug, any of these pictures end up on the tour flyers and there will be retribution,” Casen threatens. “There are still a few more shows left and we do want a record deal when it’s over.”