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As Nyla's car disappears into the distance, Lucy sniffles by his side. Tim still has no idea what could have prompted her tears, confusion buzzing under his skull. It's like he has all the necessary puzzle pieces scattered in front of him, but no clue what the final picture is supposed to be.
"Let's go home, okay?" he asks, lowering his arm from Lucy's shoulder to her waist.
She agrees with a quiet, "okay."
Once inside, he leaves her on the couch and walks to the kitchen to pick up the tea he's prepared. He had post-drinks hydration in mind when he was making it, but perhaps it still could help with this, too. Whatever this is.
"Here you go," Tim says, handing Lucy the cup of her favorite herbal blend.
"Thanks." She smiles, but it comes out weak.
He watches her taking tiny sips, trying to figure out what she's thinking about. Lucy doesn't look upset, but more so… shocked? Not that it makes much sense. In fact, if Tim didn't know any better, he'd say that she's gathering her courage for something. For what he can't even begin to imagine.
You rarely have to hype yourself up to tell good news, do you? Against his better judgment, a few dark thoughts crawl into his mind – unhealed wounds, realized mistakes, and sorries that can pierce one's heart. He does his best to fight them off.
Maybe she's picking up on his silent worry, or the tea has relaxed her enough, either way, Lucy puts the cup down on the coffee table and turns to him. "Tim, I need to tell you something."
Okay, here we go. Whatever it is, they will deal with it. Together.
"Alright," he says in the softest tone he can master with all the concern squeezing his heart like a vice.
A moment passes, then another. But Lucy doesn't say a thing more, just stares at him with wide, unsure eyes.
Is it him? Did he do something wrong? She surely was fine when she popped into his office after the end of the shift for a quick goodbye, yet clearly something happened between that moment and now. Plus, Angela told him that it was his fault. Tim dismissed her words as meaningless drunk rambling, but maybe he shouldn't have?
A whole minute or two passes. Still, Lucy remains silent.
Is it time to start freaking out yet?
Tim extends his hand tentatively, gauging the woman's reaction. After no sign of displeasure crosses her features, he cups her face, thumb caressing the soft skin of her cheek.
"You're scaring me, Luce. What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Lucy recovers from the trance with a shake of her head. "Nothing is wrong. I don't think, at least. It's just… Well, I am…" Instead of continuing with words, she places a hand on her stomach.
Tim's gaze follows the gesture with laser focus.
It can't mean what he thinks it does, right?
Too late to stop his imagination from getting ahead of itself, as it often happens when it comes to her. A picture of Lucy cradling a baby with brown hair and chocolate eyes flashes in his mind's eye. Their baby. So tiny and precious that his heart aches even if it's just a dream. For a while there, he believed that he'd lost any chance of that future for good because of nothing else but his own stupid actions, which only further heightens the effect of that mental picture.
Tim's still getting used to the miracle of his second chance as it is. But when he raises his eyes back to Lucy's, he's struck by the realization that this is real. Thin lines of tears are flowing down her cheeks again, but there is also a smile playing on her lips.
"Are you?" is all that he's able to say. Seems that he is the shocked one now.
"I am." Lucy nods.
"I think I need you to say it."
"I'm pregnant, Tim," Lucy replies. "Just found out at the bar."
A family.
With Lucy.
It's everything that he's dreamed about and then some more. His heart leaps into a gallop. Tim takes a steadying inhale. It feels like happiness is about to burst out of his ribcage. He gets so overwhelmed by excitement that he just now notices that Lucy's been saying something for the past minute.
He only catches the tail end of her speech. "And I know this is not the best timing, we're already going through a lot of change, but…"
"Luce," he interrupts. "None of that matters. All I need to know is if you want that. Do you?" the man asks, gaze glued to her eyes. "Want this baby?"
"I really do."
"That's great." Tim nods. "Because I really, really want this baby too."
"Yeah?" Lucy smiles.
"Yeah." Is he beaming? It feels like he's beaming.
Tim doesn't wait another second. He pulls Lucy into a kiss. A light, tender thing, it's filled with reassurances, and love, and so much joy.
"We're having a baby," he says when they break apart, as if needing the words out there for the confirmation.
"Oh my god, Tim," Lucy chuckles with remanence of shock. "We're having a baby!"
And all the worries of the evening aside, Tim would wager that it's the happiest either of them has ever been.
⠀
As soon as Wesley opens the door, his wife drops into his arms like a sack of potatoes.
"Okay, wow," he laughs, gathering Angela by the armpits and pulling her upright.
"Hello, husband," she says in a tone that could have been an attempt at seductive if not for the wild giggle that follows.
"Hi," he drags out. "What's up?"
"Got a little carried away with the cocktails," Nyla explains, watching them from just outside the doorway.
"I can see that." They might have slightly different definitions of a little, but whatever. "Thanks for dropping her off."
"Sure. Tell her to call me when she wakes up tomorrow."
"Will do," Wesley promises, struggling to keep his wife from wiggling free of his grip. "Have a good night."
"You too." Nyla nods before turning away and walking to her car.
"Okay. How about we get you to bed?" Wesley nudges his wife in the direction of their bedroom, keeping an arm around her waist for support while she slings one of hers over his shoulders.
"And the kids?"
"Already sleeping."
"Uuh," Angela stretches out a sigh as they walk into the room. "I missed the bedtime."
Wesley leaves her sitting on the bed and goes to the bathroom to retrieve some makeup wipes and a moisturizer, not sure if Angela is capable of her regular evening routine at the moment. When he returns, she's sprawled like a star over the covers.
"They are getting so big now," she says when he sits down beside her and starts gently rubbing the makeup off. "Don't you miss when they were babies?"
"Sometimes," Wesley agrees. Truth be told, despite all the mayhem, he wouldn't mind another addition to their family. But he's fully on board with Angela's choice to stop at two as well. Nevertheless, they do make very cute babies.
"I love babies," the woman mumbles as Wesley starts applying cream onto her skin, and he wonders what's got into her today with all the baby talk.
Wesley helps his wife to change into her sleepwear and tucks her in under the covers. He goes to grab a shower and brush his teeth, expecting to find Angela having dozed off at his return almost twenty minutes later. Instead, she is awake, scrolling on her phone.
As he lies down beside her, his gaze falls on the screen, which is filled with pictures of cribs and pacifiers. Why exactly is his wife doing midnight shopping at a baby store?
"Um, Ange," the man says with confusion. "Is there something new with our friends that you forgot to share?" Because if there's one thing he can be sure about, considering the state in which his wife came back from the bar today, they are not having a three-for-three surprise baby.
"Maybe," she says, peeling her eyes off the phone and looking at him with raised eyebrows.
"Do I need to call James with congratulations on a new baby tomorrow?" Though Nyla didn't look like she was hiding some big news when she left, it is a reasonable explanation.
Judging by Angela's face, there is a fight happening inside her. A very brief fight. Inebriation for the win.
"Not James."
So not Nyla. Unlikely, Celina, either. So that leaves, "Tim?"
"Shoot." The woman presses her lips. "I don't think that I was supposed to tell you yet."
"Don't worry," Wesley chuckles before leaving a kiss on her temple. "I know the drill." He's long ago perfected the art of pulling the most surprised faces at the recycled news. No one has guessed yet that he already thoroughly discussed it at home before. "I think it's great for them."
"Yeah, as soon as they get over the shock."
"We did. And look how happy we are now."
"I'll be the best godmother ever," Angela states with confidence.
"Did Tim ask you already?" When did she have a chance to talk to him if she's just learned about it?
The response Wesley gets is a deep belly laugh, almost loud enough for him to worry about kids waking up. "Sometimes I forget how hilarious you are. As if I need to wait for Tim to ask."
"Of course you don't." The man shakes his head with fond exasperation.
Angela picks up her phone and turns it to him. "Which one do you think they'll like best?" she asks after a long yawn.
There are two kids' bicycles displayed on the screen, one in neon green and the other in fire truck red. "I think it's maybe a little too early for these. How about sleeping on it and continuing the shopping tomorrow?"
"Fine," Angela huffs. "My eyes are getting too dry anyway." Seeing how she's barely able to keep them open, she'll be out like a light in under three minutes, tops.
"Sleep well. I love you."
"Love you," the woman mumbles, closing her eyes and turning to her side.
When Wesley pries the phone out of her grip, curiosity gets the better of him. There are four items in the cart. He taps on the icon to find a giant stuffed unicorn and three different train sets there.
Yeah, totally a wise idea to put the shopping off for now.
⠀
The elevator doors pull open, and Wade Grey steps out on the too-familiar floor. Getting down here is muscle memory. Considering that he's spent years, hell, decades among these gray walls, this place is nothing short of a second home to him. That's why he can't help but pop up from time to time to see how things are going in his absence. Not too often so that Bradford doesn't get any wrong ideas, he's stressed enough as it is.
It's a good thing that Wade does because sometimes a simple short visit is enough to prevent an impending disaster. Like, for example, today, when he finds the bane of his existence talking in the corner with another officer. He watches the man take a five-dollar bill, put it in his uniform pocket, and scribble something in his notebook. Which can only mean one thing.
"Smitty!" Grey barks, and Officer Jan has enough good sense to turn on his heels and stride away from the scene without saying a word.
"Lieutenant," Smitty replies, too slow to retreat but still trying to hide the notebook in his pocket.
"Give me that."
The page is full of various lines and numbers with surnames under them.
Bradford is getting a captain.
Lucy proposed.
Bradford and Chen are leaving PD and going to travel the world.
"Smitty, what did I tell you about betting pools?"
"None on your watch."
"And?" Honestly, one of the best things that came out of his acceptance of Garza's offer is no longer needing to deal with Smitty day in and day out. Every time he had to, Luna got this much closer to getting her wish of his early retirement.
"And it's not you watch now," the man replies with finger guns. "The new Watch Commander doesn't mind."
"What?"
Smitty takes the notebook and flips it to the other side, pointing to the center of the page where, under Bradford was abducted by aliens, there is his name written in recognizably Tim's handwriting. Well, damn. Since when is Bradford encouraging Smitty's rampant behavior?
"I don't care." Grey shakes his head. "No betting in my station."
"But, Lieutenant." The man tries to get his notebook back.
"No buts, I'm confiscating it. Go do something useful, like your job, Smitty."
The officer frowns and shakes his head before turning away and mumbling something under his breath that suspiciously sounds like, "No fair."
Already one good deed under his belt, Grey puts the notebook in his pocket to deal with it later and walks along the corridor towards the bullpen. The place is buzzing with activity, just like always, officers he's used to seeing every day moving around and doing their job without paying him any mind.
Wade won't admit it out loud, but sometimes, despite enjoying the challenge of the new assignment and the relieving lack of constant paperwork, he gets a little homesick. His gaze still stumbles over seeing somebody else occupying his chair. But that's not the only reason why he does a double-take today. His mind can't quite compute what he is seeing.
Tim Bradford is smiling ear to ear. While doing paperwork.
Alright, this has officially moved to the bizarre territory. Has Bradford cracked some kind of code that Grey hasn't been able to in all his time on the job? Very unlikely. No, if Grey had to guess, a different person has something to do with it.
His eyes travel back to the bullpen, stopping at Lucy's desk. She's also there, doing something on her computer, and actually looking a little green. Interesting. There are very few reasons why Tim would be smiling so much while Lucy doesn't seem to be feeling well.
A single reason, truly. Plus, even though it's been years since his personal experience, he is capable of recognizing that sallow look on a woman's face all too well.
His suspicion is confirmed when Lucy half-gags after Jan walks by her desk before pinching her nose shut and rapidly starting to drink from her cup.
So that's why Smitty is walking around unharmed. Bradford has much bigger things to worry about now. Well, good. Grey's glad for the kid, honestly. After everything he's been through, both of them really, they deserve all the happiness they can get. And if he ever needs advice on how to handle the job while surviving on two hours of sleep, Tim knows where to find him.
⠀
Lucy slams the break room cupboard door in frustration. She is so hungry, but nothing looks good. It's been two weeks since she got the news, and it's like the floodgates have been opened – her body treating her awareness as a reason to dial up the symptoms to ten.
Fatigue, cravings, headaches – Lucy's got it all, with a few unexpected twists added to the mix as well. Like, for instance, the wool of her uniform having grown super itchy all of a sudden. So much so that she's come very close once or twice to peeling it off her body right in the middle of the station, no care for the surrounding audience.
Lucy is happy, she truly is – even though neither of them planned to start a family so soon – but she is only on week ten of the pregnancy, and she's already exhausted. The little strawberry in her belly is wreaking havoc on her body. But honestly, the woman would even stop complaining about most of it if only the stupid morning sickness could leave her the fuck alone. More like an all-day sickness. What a gigantic misnomer. She's tried ginger ale, lemon water, saltines – nothing works. It's not that bad, really, but Lucy feels like she's constantly on the verge of puking, which, for those lucky enough not to have experienced it, sucks so much.
The door behind her opens, and the sergeant does a quick work of rearranging her features in something a little less miserable and a lot less annoyed, so that it doesn't betray that something is going on with her. Not that it's some kind of big secret, but Lucy knows the statistics. A lot of things can happen in the first trimester. So after a talk, both Tim and she decided to put off telling people until she reaches twelve weeks. Just existing for a little while in the personal bubble of happiness for the two of them. Well, them and a few of their friends.
"Hey, Chen," sounds behind her, and the mask of neutrality momentarily slips off her face.
Patience is a finite resource these days. And only a brief encounter with Smitty is capable of easily using up her daily quota. Better to scatter away before that happens.
"Hey, Smitty," the sergeant says, turning around and grabbing her useless water bottle, intent on leaving the room.
Before she can do that, the man says, "I've got something for you."
"Oh?" Please, please let it be something that won't challenge her composure.
"Here you go," he says, and the colorful items on the palm of his outstretched hand are very much not what she expected.
"Lollipops?"
"Sicilia swore by them. It's the only thing that helped her keep her sanity both times." Her face must be reflecting her skepticism, as Smitty shakes his hand in front of her and adds, "Come on. Try one."
Lucy takes a lollipop, unwraps it, and gingerly puts it in her mouth. The mint flavor overwhelms her senses. She takes a few shallow breaths through her nose, just in case, but instead of a possible disaster, her stomach actually feels a little better at once.
"Good, right?" Smitty checks with what seems like a genuine concern.
"Very," Lucy exhales with relief, her day having just gotten, like, at least fifty percent better.
"I'll put the box on your desk, then," the man says, turning around and walking towards the exit.
Only now her brain returns to its regular function, the meaning of his previous words finally clicking. "Who is Sicilia?" Lucy asks, but the officer only shrugs. "Smitty, did you have a wife?"
"Did I?" Smitty asks with that annoying smirk of his he often pulls while avoiding giving a straight answer.
"Wait, Smitty, seriously. Who is Sicilia?" the woman repeats, but he completely ignores her question and opens the door.
"Get better, Chen," is the only reply she gets, the words reaching her from the corridor before the door slides shut.
Lucy huffs. No matter. She is a sergeant, a good one at that. It's nothing that a quick search through the database won't resolve. In like ten minutes. Right now, she is going to enjoy the sensation of her stomach finally settling after two weeks. And maybe a super brief power nap in Tim's old office after that.
⠀
"It smells fantastic in here." Lucy enters the kitchen just as Genny takes the pot off the heat.
"Hey! Thanks," she replies, throwing the towel over her shoulder and giving the woman a hug. "It's one of the few family recipes that I've got."
"Can I help you with something?"
"It's fine. But you can bring the stew to the table. The oven mitts are over there." She nods towards the pegs on the fridge.
"You've got it," Lucy says, pulling the mitts on.
She barely makes it ten steps before her brother appears in the doorway, grabs a discarded towel off the counter, and takes the Dutch oven out of her hands. "Let me. Hey, Gen."
"Hey, stranger," she throws at his retreating back.
Lucy visibly cringes at that. "I'm sorry we've been so MIA lately."
"Oh, no," Genny brushes her off with a wave of her hand. "I'm just joking. I know you guys have a lot on your plate right now. How is the new job treating you?"
"Glad to be back on the day shift, but sometimes it feels like I'm in charge of a bunch of third-graders."
"I know what you mean," Genny laughs, drying a tomato with her towel and placing it on the cutting board.
"How is yours?"
"Oh, like it always is with kids. Some days it's the best job in the world, other days they are driving me up the wall."
"Right." There is some strange note in Lucy's chuckle, but she can't put her finger on it. Before Genny has a chance to dwell, Tim steps back into the kitchen.
He walks towards one of the cupboards, taking out a glass and filling it with water before handing it to Lucy. He watches her take a sip silently for a couple of moments, weird, and then, satisfied with finding whatever he was looking for on Lucy's face, turns his attention to her.
"How is it going, Gen?" her brother asks, stealing a slice of cucumber out of the salad bowl.
"Not too bad," she replies, slapping his hand when he reaches for seconds. "You?"
"Never better," Tim says, winding an arm around Lucy's waist. Judging by his smile, he means it.
"Mom!" a yell comes from the other side of the house. "Is dinner ready yet?" Why Tyler insists on always shouting instead of taking exactly one minute to get into speaking distance is still a mystery to her.
"It is," Genny has no choice but to yell back. "Find your brother and get to the table."
"Okay!"
She turns back to Lucy and Tim and huffs, "Teenagers. I swear, like ninety percent of my money goes to simply feeding them. Let's get there before they inhale all the stew."
They take the remaining bowl and cutlery and walk to the living room. As they exchange hugs, the boys seem to be more excited to see Lucy than Tim, which is always funny. The dinner conversation is flowing smoothly as usual, with them chatting about work, and school, and catching up on some random things that have happened since their last family dinner two weeks ago. But the whole time, Genny is busy watching her brother.
So far, he meticulously got rid of all the onions in Lucy's portion of the salad, has been to the kitchen twice to refill her water, returning with freshly-cut lemons in her glass the second time, and ran to the car to grab her jacket approximately five seconds after Lucy shuddered, before Genny could even open her mouth to offer her a blanket or some hoodie from her wardrobe.
"Anyone want some tea?" Genny asks, standing up with her plate in hand. She's getting a sense it's about time to wrap up the evening, considering how Lucy's been getting increasingly less energetic for the past half hour.
"I'm good, thanks." Tim shakes his head.
"Me too," Lucy says. "But I'll help you with the dishes."
"Don't bother." Genny waves her off.
"No, you cooked everything. It's only fair I deal with cleaning." The offer would be far more convincing if it weren't punctuated by a big yawn at the end.
Tim stands up and puts his hand on the back of her chair. "Rest, I'll help," he says, leaving a kiss on the top of her head.
"Boys," Genny says. "Why don't you show Lucy your school film project while she lies on the couch?"
"Film project? That sounds fun." The woman smiles. "Lead the way."
Genny and Tim gather the empty plates off the table, bringing them to the kitchen.
"I wash, you dry?" her brother offers.
"Okay," she agrees, picking up a fresh towel.
The woman watches as he dribbles soap over the sponge and takes a plate off the pile. From the most neutral expression on his face, never would she have guessed that something was up if she hadn't witnessed it firsthand. He's always been good at keeping things to himself, but considering the magnitude, this is next level.
"Wanna tell me something?" Genny asks as he passes her the plate before starting on a new one.
"Don't think so." The man shakes his head, not a hint of emotion in response.
"Something about me needing to buy a bigger table for family dinners soon maybe?" she offers.
The plate slips from his grip, and he catches it just in time before it hits the sink. Tim doesn't say anything for a moment, but there is a brilliant smile that he is clearly trying and failing to suppress, growing on his lips.
"What gave it away?" he asks, turning to her.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you've been treating her like she's made of porcelain the whole evening?" Genny chuckles.
"Noticed that, did you?" Tim groans. "I'm trying to keep it contained, really. But sometimes I just can't help it."
"Well, I get it," she says, taking the plate out of his hands and putting it back in the sink so that she may give him a tight hug. "Congratulations, Tim!"
"Thank you." He smiles when they pull apart, and she's never seen her brother so happy.
"How far along is she?"
"Twelve weeks on Monday."
"It's—"
"Hey, Genny," Lucy interrupts, walking into the kitchen. "Is the offer still on the table? I think I've changed my mind about the tea." She looks at them, perhaps regarding the two of them smiling widely. "What's up, guys?"
"She knows," Tim says simply.
Lucy frowns, and Genny feels compelled to add, "He didn't say anything, I guessed."
"I'm sorry, we were going to tell you when I'm—"
Oh, so that's what the frown is about. "No, Lucy, you don't need to explain. I get it. I'm just really happy for you guys!" She opens her arms for a hug that the woman accepts eagerly.
"Thank you," Lucy says. "We are happy too."
"How are you feeling? First trimester can be a bitch." Genny was miserable with both of her pregnancies for the first three months, barely having energy to crawl out of bed to the bathroom on her days off.
"Yeah, don't I know it," Lucy laughs.
"Morning sickness?" the woman guesses.
"Used to be. But it's got much better. Now I keep feeling drained like a Tamagotchi that lost all of its charge, by like midday."
"I've been there." Genny nods. "Got better for me in the second trimester."
"Can't wait."
"Here you go, babe." Tim places a cup on the counter beside Lucy.
"Oh yeah, sorry, tea," Genny says. "Completely forgot about it."
"Thank you, Tim." Lucy kisses him on the cheek before the man returns to the sink. "Don't worry about it," she says to Genny.
"Would you like some coffee cake? It's from the bakery you like."
"Yes, please." The pregnant woman nods with excitement, and Genny goes to the fridge.
"Won't the sugar this late make you toss and—" Upon catching a stern look, Tim course-corrects. "Sorry, Luce. Shutting up now," he says, turning away to the sink again.
"That's very impressive," Genny whispers. "Like a trained puppy. I wish I could have shut him up like that when we were living together."
"I heard that!" Tim throws.
"I don't ca-re," Genny singsongs back, giving a plated slice of cake to Lucy.
"The only good thing about the emotional rollercoasters," Lucy jokes, shoving a big piece of cake into her mouth. "I think he's afraid I'll burst into tears or something."
"Or storm off," Tim offers.
"That was one time," Lucy groans. "And I didn't storm off. More like left the room temporarily."
"It still haunts me," the man says in mock solemnity.
"What happened?" Genny laughs.
"It was nothing," the woman says just as Tim begins, "It all started when I forgot to buy the tofu…"
⠀
Miles returns from his morning run to find Celina perched on a stool by the kitchen island, doing something on her phone. He pulls off the headphones to his neck, kicks off his sneakers, and walks to the sink to pour himself a glass of water.
"Quick, which one is better?" Celina turns her phone to him. There are two cakes in pastel colors, one yellow decorated with little daisies and leaves, the other light blue with colorful balloons.
"This one," he says, pointing to the blue one with the glass in his hand. "What's this for?"
"I'm ordering a cake for the gender reveal," the woman says, tapping on her screen.
"For what?"
"The gender reveal. The one at Bradford's on Saturday," she explains. "You're invited, aren't you?"
"I thought it was a barbecue." Miles was surprised to receive an invitation from his former TO, but he's been looking forward to some good food ever since. If there is one thing he really misses since leaving Texas, besides his family, it's some deliciously charred meat.
"It's both, I guess." Celina shrugs.
"But what's with the gender reveal?" he asks, turning to rinse the now-empty glass in the sink
"For the baby, duh."
Irrationally, his gaze drops to Celina's midsection for a second. "Whose baby?"
"Very funny," the woman laughs, but stops when he doesn't join her. "Wait," she says, staring at him and no doubt clocking his genuine confusion. "You're being serious?"
"Yeah," the man drawls.
"Lucy's baby," Celina states, as if it's the most obvious fact in the entire world.
"Lucy and Tim are having a baby?" Now, asking this makes him feel like a total idiot, but he has to to make sure there is no misunderstanding.
"They are." Juarez frowns. "You really aren't joking?"
"No?"
"Oh my god," Celina burst out laughing, much louder this time. "How did you not know that? She's showing already!"
"Well, I ain't looking at other ladies' stomachs." Of course, he noticed that Lucy has put on some weight, but it's none of his business.
"Oh my god," the woman repeats. "This is hilarious!"
"It makes so much sense now," Miles drawls thoughtfully. The way Bradford has been smiling pretty much every roll-call. How he congratulated him on getting into the short sleeves. And then barely yelled at him when Miles totaled the shop the next shift. He thought the sergeant was just very happy in his home life with Lucy, but a baby on the way explains the shift in his behavior so much better.
"Can't believe you really didn't have a clue." Celina shakes her head with a teasing smile. "She's like eighteen weeks already. Everyone knows by now."
"Really, everyone?"
"Almost everyone, I guess," she chuckles. "Don't worry, at least you're cute enough to pull off being a police officer."
"Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing at the clueless me."
"Oh, don't doubt, I will," Celina reassures. "On the bright side, you won't show up to the party empty-handed now."
"Right! What do you think I should get them?" The last time he bought baby things was for his cousin two years ago, and he only managed to choose something decent because Camilla helped him pick.
"How about a book? Something like The Early Signs of Pregnancy You Might Miss?"
"Ha-ha, very funny." Mile rolls his eyes with exasperation. "I'm serious."
"Me too! You might want to get it a read first, could be educational." When he turns away to walk to his room, Celina adds, "Alright, alright. Take a seat." She pats the stool on her right. "I was going to search for my gift next, we might as well choose something you like."
"Okay, thanks," he says, sitting down. "What do you think of a police uniform onesie? I've always thought they were cute."
"Love your enthusiasm," the woman replies, clearly patronizing him. "Let's take a look at some other options, too."