Do You Take This Baby?. Wendy Warren

teacher at school, and that they were now “serious.” It had seemed kind to spare her family that bit of information. They worried about her, she knew. None of her siblings, who favored Minna in looks and in character, had ever lacked a date on weekends. Only Gemma, with her Gould-given averageness and her keen interest in historical novels and theater versus, say, sports, pop culture and who won Dancing with the Stars, tended to struggle in the dating arena. True, she lived in a busy, exciting city, but Portland tended to skew more toward families and the twentysomething indie-music crowd. Gemma knew her options were decreasing, but she just couldn’t bring herself to look online for a mate.

      Okay, lie. She and her friend Holliday had imbibed a mimosa or two one Sunday brunch at Gemma’s place, and Gemma had allowed Holly to make a dating profile for her on one of the more popular sites. In the light of stone-cold sobriety, however, Gemma had deleted it.

      “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll have a great time going stag to the wedding.” She bumped her mother’s hip. “When Dad’s doing the Cupid Shuffle with Grandma, you and I can practice twerking.”

      “Oh, stop it, you!” Minna snapped Gemma with the dish towel. “Do you happen to know if Ethan wants to bring someone? I can’t get Elyse or Scott to slow down long enough to tell me anything these days, and I can’t imagine he would come alone. I saw on the cover of In Touch that he’s been dating that redhead from the TV show about vampire cheerleaders. What’s her name?”

      Gemma felt a little pinch to her heart. “I have no idea.”

      “Well, do you know if he’s bringing someone?”

      “How would I know that?”

      “You dated him in high school.”

      The pinch felt tighter. “I wouldn’t call it a date,” she mumbled, “exactly.” Had nobody in the family ever told Minna the truth about the single evening Gemma had spent with Ethan? Elyse knew all about the disastrous homecoming event, since she had set the “date” up to begin with. And their sister Lucy knew, because she’d seen Gemma crying, and Elyse had blabbed all about it. Even their older brother, David, knew. “Mom,” Gemma said carefully, “that night with Ethan...that was more of a high school convenience thing.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. You primped for two hours, and he brought you a corsage.”

      Amazing how the memory could induce a flood of embarrassing heat all these years later. Yes, she had primped. Yes, she had been excited. No, he hadn’t given her a corsage. Elyse, as it turned out, had provided the corsage for Ethan to give to Gemma. The entire evening had been Elyse’s brainchild, not Ethan’s.

      Keeping her eyes on the sudsy dishwater, Gemma said, “Everyone primps for the homecoming dance, Mom. It didn’t really mean anything.”

      Minna shook her head, exasperated. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Three daughters, and not one of you interested in Ethan. I don’t understand it. If he’d been in town when my friends and I were in high school...”

      Gemma didn’t have to listen to know what came next—we’d have been fighting over him like cats and dogs.

      Well, who said she hadn’t been interested? And girls had fought over Ethan like cats and dogs; it was just that Gemma had never had a prayer of winning that particular battle.

      “Fine.” Minna shrugged. “It didn’t work out, so that’s that, but he always liked talking to you.”

      Yes, I am a sought-after conversationalist, all right. Even William still dropped in at her office for the occasional chat.

      “You were the only person he spent any time with at all at the wedding shower,” Minna continued. “Really, I can’t imagine what would have made him run off the way he did. Are you sure he didn’t give you a clue?”

      It didn’t feel right to repeat a conversation she probably shouldn’t have overheard in the first place, so Gemma muttered, “He didn’t tell me anything.” That was the truth. “He said he’d talk to Elyse and Scott.”

      “Oh, they’re both so busy, they’re useless when it comes to—” Her mother cut herself off.

      “Feeding you juicy gossip about Ethan?” Gemma teased.

      “Oh, fine. We’ll definitely see Ethan next week. I’ll ask him for some gossip myself.”

      “Next week?” Gemma heard the panic in her own voice. She hadn’t seen or heard a word about Ethan since the bridal shower, and life was much more peaceful that way.

      “Gemma,” her mother chided. “Please say you didn’t forget the rehearsal dinner. I told you to write the date down immediately. You’re not going to tell me you have one of those endless work functions or dinner with the dean.”

      “No, I remember the rehearsal dinner. I just forgot Ethan would be there.”

      “Well, of course he’s going to be there. He’s the best man. I’m giving you the job of calling him to confirm.”

      “What? Why me? Why not—” Gemma stopped herself. The more she protested, the more she would draw her mother’s attention. And she couldn’t claim not to have Ethan’s number; it had been her job to text the wedding party to give them the time of the fittings for their gowns and tuxes. “All right.”

      She’d merely text him again. Wouldn’t have to trade actual words until the rehearsal dinner.

      * * *

      Past 9:00 p.m., the General Store in Thunder Ridge was closed, so if you had a midnight hankering for a pint of mint chocolate chip or a desperate need to read the latest celebrity gossip mag, you had to drive to Hank’s Thunderbird Market on Highway 12. When Gemma’s sister Lucy phoned their parents’ house at 11:00 p.m., asking if someone could please, please, please pick up ear drops for her baby, Owen, and some teething gel—“The pink gel, not the white. The pink!”—because Owen had been crying nonstop for two hours, Gemma volunteered to make the drive.

      Deciding a snack would make the late-night trip more entertaining, Gemma grabbed a package of Nutter Butters, which were the best cookies on earth, then added a bag of rippled potato chips since she was going to need to crunch on something on the way home. With her basket of support foods, she headed to the pharmaceutical aisle intending to grab the teething gel quickly and go to her sister’s. As she rounded the corner of the aisle, however, she nearly collided with another late-night shopper.

      “Oh! My gosh. I didn’t expect to see you.”

      “Yeah, no, me either. I’m... I had to pick up a few things.” Ethan nodded to the loaded cart in front of him and then—was it possible?—he blushed. As in, a deep red infused his gorgeous face. His gorgeous, exhausted-looking face.

      Why was he blushing? Other than seeming tired, he looked great. She, on the other hand, had been wearing a T-shirt that read Eat, Sleep, Repeat and her hot-pink emoji pajama bottoms when Lucy had called, and she hadn’t seen any reason to change for the trip to the Thunderbird.

      Her surprise at seeing Ethan here turned into absolute shock when she saw the contents of his shopping cart.

      “Teething biscuits?” She arched a brow.

      “Yeah.” He glanced around, then lifted a shoulder. “I like ’em.”

      “Favorite locker-room snack?”

      Ethan did not look happy. He looked, in fact, miserable. With one hand, he finger-combed the thick golden hair that appeared to have been mussed several times already. With the other hand, he retained a white-knuckle grip on the cart.

      Gemma peered at the rest of the contents, which looked as if they’d been scooped up by a dump truck and piled in.

      Coffee, milk, two four-packs of energy drinks, cotton balls, bandages, a thermometer (several, in fact, each a different brand), tissues, baby wipes—

      Baby wipes? She looked closer. Yep, baby wipes. And formula! He had at least