“I’m not going.”
“Of course you are, it’s all about you.”
“It’s not about me, it’s about the baby,” said Virginia. She combed her hair while seated in front of her vanity mirror in the master bedroom of the coachhouse. She looked like a duchess from an English mini-series. “This is about your parents and their friends, and I refuse to play Madonna when I’m dead tired.”
“You’re hormonal,” said Cash, immediately regretting it.
“And you’re not, Mr Morning Sickness, Tender Nipple Man, Moody Bastard?”
“That was because I love you and Echo,” Cash said.
“They didn’t ask me, they just planned and invited. I had no say or warning. I’m tired Cash. I might even be fucking hormonal. I want to have a glass of Guinness and maybe a nap today. Fall asleep in front of the TV.”
“Babe,” said Cash. “Father and Mummy are just proud of you, of us. They want to celebrate their first grandbaby. Aren’t you proud? Don’t you want to celebrate?”
Virginia rolled her eyes so hard they almost flew out of their sockets. “You take the baby to the party.” Virginia looked at her watch. “She’ll most likely sleep through the whole thing.”
“You, the baby’s father and half of her parent-pair.”
“What if she wakes up?” said Cash.
“Then the world will end,” said Virginia.
“People will bring expensive gifts,” Cash said.
“Fantastic. I’ll write the thank-you notes.”
“I love you,” said Cash.
“Good,” said Virginia.