Finding Perfect (Fool's Gold #3)(71)

“Me, too. And coffee. I would kill for a glass of wine.” She glanced at Pia. “Do you think it’s wrong to bring a saucy little Merlot into the recovery room?”

“I think they’d frown on it. Plus, won’t you be breastfeeding?”

They reached the street and turned left. There was an exclusive maternity boutique right next to Jenel’s Gems.

“Breastfeeding is in the plan,” Charity admitted. “Are you?”

“I haven’t gotten that far,” Pia admitted. “I’m one breast short, to begin with, so I’m not sure how it would work. I’m not really doing a lot of reading yet. I have time.”

“Of course you do. It’s nice that you’re not totally obsessed with your pregnancy. The first two months, I couldn’t stop reading about it, or talking about it. I became one of those horrible, self-absorbed friends who only cared about herself.”

“I remember,” Pia said, her voice teasing.

Charity gave her a mock glare. “A true friend wouldn’t mention my slip in judgment.”

“A true friend would have given you a good slap if it had continued much longer.”

Charity laughed.

Pia joined in but was pleased when the conversation changed topic. In truth, the reason she hadn’t started doing a lot of reading about her pregnancy had nothing to do with being calm and everything to do with the fact that she still didn’t feel connected to the babies growing inside of her. They were an intellectual exercise, not an emotional bond. She knew she was pregnant, but those were just words.

In time things would get better, she told herself. From finding out about the embryos to implantation had only been a matter of a few weeks. It made sense that she would need time to catch up emotionally. At least that was the plan.

“Josh keeps saying we have to register.” Charity grimaced. “I’ve gone online where they have those lists of what is ‘essential,’ and it’s enough to freak me out. They talk about things I’ve never heard of. And some other stuff that’s really weird. Do you know there’s a device that keeps baby wipes warm? You drop in a container of wipes and it keeps them toasty. The reviews say not to get it because then the kids scream when you’re away from home and have to use a cold baby wipe.”

Pia felt the first hint of fear. “I have to make a decision about baby wipes? Can’t I just buy what’s on sale?”

“Sure, but then do you heat them? It’s incredible. I swear, if you took along everything that they said, you wouldn’t need a baby bag so much as a camel. And you’ll have three times that amount.”

Pia felt a little light-headed. “We should talk about something else,” she murmured.

“And the diapers. Do you know how many diapers babies go through in an average week?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Eighty to a hundred.”

Charity kept talking, but Pia was too busy doing the math. With triplets, she could be looking at two hundred and forty to three hundred diapers in a week. If she used disposable ones, wouldn’t she be personally responsible for any overflow in the Fool’s Gold landfill?

Three hundred diapers? How many were in a box? Could she fit that many in her car? Was Raoul going to have to buy a semi to bring in supplies?

“That’s pretty.” Charity had stopped in front of the window of the maternity store. A pregnant mannequin wore a sophisticated burgundy pantsuit, with a fly-away-style jacket. The fabric was a high-quality knit that skimmed the body and held its shape but would probably wash like a dream.

“The color would be great for you,” Pia said. “With your light hair.”

“I wonder if the set comes with a skirt. Or I could get a black skirt and a patterned top. That would give me a lot of work outfits.” She glanced at Pia. “Or am I being too matchy-matchy?”

“You’re doing just fine. Let’s go in and see what they have.”

The store was larger than it looked from the outside. There was plenty of light, lots of mirrors and racks of clothes set up by type. In the back, an archway led into a massive separate store that sold everything baby. Pia caught sight of a stroller and crib before carefully averting her eyes. She was here to shop for her friend, not freak herself out. Later, when she could sit down, she would think about all the equipment babies apparently required and try not to hyperventilate. And maybe she would take Denise Hendrix up on her offer to explain what exactly the mother of a triplet needed three of and what she could avoid buying in bulk.

“Hi, ladies,” a salesclerk called. “How are you doing?”

“Great,” Charity said. “I’m browsing first.”

“Let me know if I can help.”

Pia wandered toward the dress racks. Maybe dresses would be easier, as they would give her more breathing room—so to speak. But as it got colder, she preferred pants or nice jeans. Plus, did she really want to deal with maternity tights or nylons?

She crossed over to the jeans and grimaced when she saw a very unattractive elastic kind of band thing stuck in front. Was that what she had to look forward to?

“Look at this,” Charity said, pointing to a mannequin. “It’s a tummy sleeve.” She leaned in and read the sign. “Oh, this is great. It helps with transition. When you’re too big for your regular pants but maternity ones are too big for you. It covers the open zipper.” She grinned. “I wish I’d thought of that. You should get one.”