“What is it?”

“A baseball cap.”

“A baseball cap. That’s my Yankees cap. You can’t throw that away,” Toby groaned incredulous, leaving the books and walking over. “Next you’ll be throwing away my baseball cards.”

Margaret grimaced and fished in the can.

“Margaret!”

She shrugged and her head disappeared back into the closet. A few seconds later she re-emerged. “The art of air guitar?” Margaret announced, raising an eyebrow.

“Josh bought me that for Hanukkah,” Toby mumbled, sorting through his cards.

The book landed in the can with a thud.

Margaret picked up a muffin from beside her and broke a small piece off.

Toby glanced up and shook his head. “If you keep eating like that you‘ll never wear a bikini again.”

She shot him a look, normally reserved for Leo.

He held his hand up in surrender. “Not that wearing a bikini is important.”

“So how long does the realtor think it’s going to take?” Margaret asked, mumbling around the cake.

“Six to eight weeks.”

Margaret grinned. They had been looking at townhouses for weeks.

Everyone was a little taken aback when Toby announced they were moving in together, especially Sam and Josh, who were as always, oblivious to the fact they were even going out. Most had wished them well.

Finally, she had found it. A three bedroom townhouse in Georgetown, with a small garden for her to grow herbs in and Toby to teach their son how to play baseball.

Toby was convinced it was going to be a boy. Margaret knew it would be a girl, after all for generations in her family, girls came first. She had placated him by agreeing that whatever sex, he could buy the kid a baseball mitt.

“Are you sure you’re up to all this?” Toby asked softly. “I mean moving, the scan, telling Leo.” He swallowed hard. If Leo’s reaction to the news they were moving in together was anything to go on, the baby news was not going to go down well.

“We have to move,” Margaret stated, shifting onto her knees and holding out her hand.

Toby pulled her up and his hands slid to her waist. “I’m not disputing that. Maybe we could postpone telling the others.”

“Chicken,” Margaret teased, kissing him lightly on the nose.

“Cluck cluck.”

Margaret laughed and moved out of his embrace. “Got anything to eat in this place?”

He shook his head.

“Then we’d better order in or something,” Margaret sighed, crossing to his bulletin board. “Um, Thai, Chinese, Indian, pizza, Vietnamese or Mexican? Do you ever eat in?”

Toby rubbed his naked scalp as he watched her rapidly move about his apartment. She was making him dizzy as she hunted for the phone beneath packing cases and bubble wrap. “Margaret, stop,” he growled.

At her scowl, his voice softened, “Why don’t we go to the store and I’ll cook. You should be eating plenty of vegetables and fruit. And a little protein wouldn’t go a miss.”

Margaret raised an eyebrow and grinned. “”You’ve been reading my pregnancy manual again.” Her grin widened. “I hope you paid special attention to page fifty-six.”

Toby looked back at her blankly. He thought he’d managed to read the important stuff while she wasn’t looking.

“Toby. Toby. Toby,” she groaned.

“I probably don’t want to ask this, but what’s page fifty-six?” Toby lowered his gaze to the carpet, fully expecting her to tease him.

“A woman’s libido is likely to fall in the first and third trimesters. However it is perfectly safe to have intercourse during pregnancy. The page in question details the most comfortable positions,” Margaret explained, watching as his ears turned pink.

After a second his dark soulful eyes looked up at her. “Ah,” he said thoughtfully. “I may already have that covered. He shifted a box and lifted a thick file of paper. “The 2002 Sex Education report.”

“Toby, that says “Baseball for Kids.”

Toby glanced at the file and groaned. He rubbed his temples in distress. “David is going to kill me,” he mumbled, grimacing.

“Toby?”

“I’ve just sent my eight year old niece the sex ed report.”

Margaret stifled a grin.

“It’s not funny,” he growled, throwing things about wildly as he searched for the phone.

“What’s the matter? Worried Ruth may be shocked by what she reads?” Margaret teased, dropping unceremoniously onto the couch.

“No, I’m more worried she might find some discrepancies,” he remarked seriously.

The End