Wynn

I find B sitting on the couch by herself in the living room scrolling mindlessly through her phone. I don't know what you're supposed to do after facing the type of blow she is, but I'm determined to make some part of this better for her. She deserves at least that much.

Wyatt tagged out when I arrived, giving me explicit instruction to never leave Colby's side. I could see his distress, the worry etched into the broad planes of his face. It pained me to see him that way- completely at the mercy of these relentless circumstances and unable to be the man he'd like to be for B due to her douchebag of a father, Cliff. All things considered, I know Wyatt made the right call, even though I think he'd be far more of a comfort to my hurting bestie than I can be.

"You're here," Colby says as I move to take a seat beside her on the sofa. "Did Wyatt send you to babysit?"

"Nah, he wouldn't do that," I reply with a wave of my hand. "I just wanted to hang."

"Right." She smiles brightly for a moment before her facade dissolves into a watery torrent of tears. "Oh, Wynn, it's real, isn't it? She's really gone!"

"I'm so sorry," I say, pulling my trembling friend into my own shaky embrace. "It doesn't feel real to me, either."

She nods, wheezing into my shoulder as I hold her close. Our tears mingle together, flowing into a murky blemish on their family room sofa- the same one we've shared for countless sleepovers and movie nights. In spite of all the hours spent gossiping and encouraging each other here, these moments of certain grief are the way ones that really define a friendship, evaporating every injustice that may have been served along the way.

It's heartbreaking, with the true gravity of what's transpired still so far from setting in. While I can't make this suck any less, I swear she'll never be alone in her grief.

"I can't do this anymore," B says, pulling away from me after what may have been minutes or hours... I don't know, and I don't really care. I'm not going anywhere.

I watch her curiously as she wipes her damp cheeks with the back of her hand, setting her shoulders and straightening her back. Sighing, she rolls her eyes when she spots the soaked trail that her own tears forged down the front of her freshman year cheer t-shirt. Sweeping her hair up into a high ponytail, she wraps it with the band from her wrist before smacking her knees excitedly.

"We're going baby shopping," she states with authority, rising to her feet. Her eyes sparkle with genuine joy as she glances at my belly. She reaches down, patting the swell of it gently with the tips her slender fingers. "You don't get to say no."

I smile in understanding, knowing that shopping provides the perfect distraction. We're world class shoppers, even at our worst. "I do need...well, everything really. Cole and I have acquired exactly nothing for the baby, and every day we're a little closer to her coming. Did I tell you I think she's a girl?"

"Of course she is," Colby teases, a wry smirk forming across her perfect pout. "You wouldn't let her be anything else. I've known that all along." She grabs her purse and keys, heading for the front door with a spring in her step that only someone like B could be capable of.

I'll never understand how she does it. True to her effervescent nature, Colby refuses to wallow in her loss. I've never lost anyone close to me before Tanzie, and watching B hold herself together the way she is now is beyond admirable. Mrs. Byers' death is a vicious sting, both to her family and far beyond. Each time I think of her beautiful spirit I'm struck by a sense of emptiness that I'm certain is only a fraction of what my best friend will be forced to cope with every day for the rest of her life.

In truth, Tanzie was more a mother to me than my own has been. Because of her, I know what maternal love and concern look like. She taught me what it takes to tackle the lifelong task that Cole and I are mere months away from beginning, and that's a gift that I'll forever cherish.

...

"Don't you think we should get more neutral stuff," Morgan suggests helpfully as we add more to our armfuls of loot.

"We didn't ask you to come so that you could rain on our parade," I groan, annoyed with her sensible practicality.

Colby shifts, snatching a pale pink fuzzy puff of some sort from the shelf in front of her, and I squint to make out the print on the label- a throw blanket. While I'm not certain that's very high on my purchase priority list, it is today. Our spree has had an incredible effect on Colby, and I'm not about to put a stop to it now.

"She's right, Morgs. We need more arms!" She giggles, tossing the bundled fur into Morgan's hands. "We'll just bring it back if she's wrong."

"I'm not," I assert. Colby and Morgan eye one another skeptically but nod in agreement with me the moment they see I've caught their exchange.

Morgan makes her way around the corner to a new oasis filled with priceless merchandise and gasps from the other side of the display. Colby rushes to her aid, and when I finally lumber over to meet them, I take in the glory that caused all the fuss.

"This is the prettiest crib I think I've ever seen," Colby breathes, awed by the elegant structure before us.

"Really it would work for a girl or a boy," Morgan remarks, earning from me a stink eye so putrid the devil himself could smell it. She shrugs me off, taking a step back so that I can get a better look at it.

I run my fingers along the smooth ivory edges, and we connect on another level, the crib and I. It's not a want anymore, not like the rest of our armloads... This. This is a need.

"Oh my goodness, it gets better!" Morgan exclaims, flipping its tag over in her palm. "Look what it does!"

Colby and I huddle in closer to Morgan's outstretched hand, reading over the magnificence offered as we carefully take in each image. The crib converts from its original form into a toddler bed and then further into a twin.

"Shoot, Wynn. With versatility like that, it'd be plain stupid not to buy it!" Colby grins, shrugging by way of justification. She's always had a way of rationalizing purchases that could get a girl into some serious trouble.

I reach for the tag, turning it to reveal the price and gasp in horror. "Eight hundred dollars?" I cry in disbelief.

"You know what?" Colby begins with pursed lips, shaking her head. "It's really not that great. I think we can do better." Her sudden change of heart puts the smile back on my face, knowing that she's always trying to help in her own little way.

"Are you kidding?" Morgan demands, clearly not remembering that Cole and I are poor as church mice. "You love it, and it's freaking perfect. You're getting it."

I always hated that stupid expression about being stuck between a rock and a hard place, but right here, with my empty as eff wallet and my desire the size of Texas itself, I understand those damn words all too intimately.

But it is for the baby.

I still have that pretty little platinum card from my parents, and while I was planning to give it plenty of exercise today anyway, I'd planned to return everything we'd picked up later. Purchasing bags of fluffy blankets and clothing would've made that easy, making it cake to stick to the agreement I formed with my husband. I knew he'd understand my splurge for what it was- a hearty cheering up for Colby, with every last item going back to the store until we could actually afford it.

A crib is another matter altogether though, and not a want but a desperate need. Cole did say that we could use the card for the baby if we needed to...

"Flag down a sale's clerk," I say, all the while fighting the pangs of guilt gnawing at me from within.

...

"Alright, now part A screws into this end of part D... I think," Colby mutters, scowling at the instruction pamphlet for the crib. She holds the two parts up in front of her, brows knit together in frustration.

My guilt has mostly subsided now that we're back at the apartment with the parts all spread out in tidy piles before us. Our other treasures from today are strewn about the apartment in various places from the excitement of reevaluating our finds. Colby and I sit amongst the debris with our legs crossed, attempting to figure out this twister of pieces.

"Maybe I should've had it delivered," I groan. Colby giggles, but can't bring herself to disagree.

"We can do it," she argues, standing a sizable structure on its end. "I already have the base nearly done!" She gleams with pride, showing off her accomplishment with a theatrical gesture of her arm.

I set about my own work, pleased that we've managed to spend multiple hours successfully distracting B from the harsh reality that awaits her back home. She's largely been her bubbly self, with brief moments here and there of her new truth setting in. It'll be necessary for her to accept and work through her loss eventually, but I don't mind helping her postpone the pain for a little while longer.

Once we put our minds to it, the crib takes shape in short order in the center of our tiny living room, and it's gorgeous. With only a few screws remaining, I hear the shuffle of footsteps at the front door.

It flies open, with Wyatt entering carrying a couple bags of fast food. "Hey, ladies," he greets, stepping to the side as Cole struggles through the entryway with his own trophy. Their looks of excitement fade as they take in the room and what Colby and I have done with our day.

That unsettling feeling of criminality seizes me again, with the agony of betrayal threatening to swallow me whole. Cole gulps as he appraises the room filled with expensive merchandise, setting the swing down in our dated kitchen. Wyatt and Colby watch the two of us carefully as we stand across the room from one another in silence.

"Which bag of food is ours?" Colby utters, cutting through the stifling tension before awkwardly clearing her throat. "I should get going. Wyatt, could you give me a ride home?"

Tactful as always, but I look after her with pleading eyes, begging her to stay so that Cole won't have the chance to make me feel even more guilty about our exploits. Wisely, she refuses to glance my way as she slips out the door with Wyatt close behind, only offering a quick wave in farewell just before the door jams closed.

Not a word is spoken for what feels like hours- not until I finally muster the courage to speak. "Why don't you show me what you got?" I manage, my voice weak and pathetic. I attempt a smile, but it comes off as something far more grotesque and unnatural when I catch my reflection in the glass of our microwave.

Cole takes a step toward the swing he'd proudly carried through the door just moments earlier, only now he looks slightly sheepish about it. I think I feel my heart splitting in two.

"This?" he scoffs, brushing the debris from its surface. "It's not much of anything. Wyatt and I picked it up at a flea market today. His mom helped us reupholster the seat and clean it up, so it would look a bit nicer."

Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I try to fight it not wanting to make things even worse, but they spill out like a faucet before I can do anything to stop them. Cole's jaw clenches, the muscles flexing under his skin as he assesses the space.

"I'm not mad at you, Nono," he says crossing the space toward me. He wraps me tightly in his arms, combing his long fingers through my ratted hair.

"I'm so sorry," I cry into his shirt, drenching it through with my guilt.

"I'm sorry, too," he replies, rustling the loose tendrils of my unkempt mane with his cool breath. "I'm sorry we can't afford it all."

I nod into his chest, still unable to look him in the eyes. He's provided so well for us already, and I hate making him feel that it hasn't been enough. When I open my blurry eyes all I see is the swing in the kitchen, and I feel sick about how selfish I've been. The thought he put into that little swing is more precious to me than any of the things I bought today, and I ruined it.

"I don't mind taking it all back, 'cause we don't need any of this stuff anyway. This is perfect, Galloway," I say, peeling myself away from him. "The swing. It's perfect..."

"You don't have to say that, babe." He smirks, shaking his head. "We don't have to keep it. I just realized we didn't really have anything for the baby, so when Wyatt spotted it, we thought maybe we could do something with it."

"I mean it, Cole. I love it."

And I do. They chose a perfect material to bring an old swing back to life, and I can see our baby girl gliding back and forth in that very place as I make dinner for the three of us.

"Well, I'm glad," he says, kissing the top of my head. "For now, I need to get ready for work. We can't afford all of this stuff, but we're gonna need a lot of it... I guess I don't really know what all babies need..." He rubs his stubbly chin, and I giggle at his bewildered expression, only somewhat amused that we're in the same boat. I guess we'll have to figure out what babies actually need together.

"I'm pretty sure babies don't require faux fur throw blankets," I muse. "And they probably don't need Wendy Belissimo wall decor, either."

"That's one thing I'm certain of," he says with a laugh that serves to heal my battered emotions. It's how I know we're for always- nobody else in this world gives me the strength or courage to face the trials of life like my very own husband. Lucky doesn't even begin to cover how I feel.

He takes me in his arms again, only this time we're whole. Being with him is as natural as breathing, and loving him just as effortless. His mouth meets mine, his tongue sweeping over my own as I draw myself nearer to his powerful frame. He flicks his tongue against my ear, and I'm thinking he's gonna be super late to work...

A knock at the door has us springing away from one another like two kids caught red-handed, which is stupid considering our marital status. Still, we weren't expecting anybody today.

"Maybe B forgot something," I offer, moving toward the door.

"I'll get it," Cole says, his protective instinct kicking in as it always does. It's unnecessary, as I'm not nearly as concerned about our area as he is, but it's sweet, too. He yanks the door open with force, the swollen planks groaning with the effort.

"Tay," he mutters. "What are you doing here?"