***
Before all of that happened, I had thought Molly stealing our balloon would be the biggest problem of my day.
I was 29 and five months pregnant with our first baby.
Connor and I had been married for three years, and one thing I loved about us was that we usually said what we meant.
That’s why Molly exhausted me. She expected answers for everything.
I was 29 and five months pregnant.
When we announced my pregnancy, she hugged me so hard I laughed into her shoulder.
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Then she pulled back.
“When’s your next appointment?”
“Two weeks.”
“What time?”
“Ten.”
“When’s your next appointment?”
“What are they checking?”
Connor stepped in. “Mom.”
“What? I’m asking.”
“You’ve asked too many questions. Relax.”
“I’m excited.”
“I can tell.”
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“What? I’m asking.”
By the following month, Molly wanted updates on my blood pressure, cravings, sleep, and every time the baby kicked.
That was Molly. She didn’t wait for information. She chased it.
And the gender reveal gave her a new target.
***
Three nights before the party, she leaned across our dinner table.
“Just tell me.”
She didn’t wait for information.
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“No,” Connor said.
“I’m the grandmother.”
“Still no.”
“I can keep a secret.”
