Five more months, he told himself, plus a handful of days. Then he would be healed. And getting some.

“So, gifts,” he said, then swore. “I didn’t bring a gift.”

“Don’t worry. I put your name on mine. You can thank me later.”

“And pay you back.”

She laughed. “I won’t say no to that. I went a little wild with the theme.”

“There’s a theme?”

“Butterflies.”

“Your baby shower theme is bugs?”

“Butterflies aren’t bugs.” Shelby wrinkled her nose. “Fine. Technically, but they’re pretty and it’s what Destiny wanted. We’ll play some games, eat, she’ll open her presents and it will all be done before you know it.”

“If only that were true.”

She slugged him in the arm. “Be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

She looked at him. Their eyes met in one of those I-can’t-look-away moments that only seem to happen in movies rather than real life. Only Aidan found he really couldn’t look away. Nor did he want to.

“You are,” she said at last. “Nice, I mean.”

“So are you.”

A car pulled into the already crowded driveway. The sound of the engine broke the spell and they turned toward the house.

“Butterflies,” he said. “Weird.”

“Get over it.”

* * *

SHELBY HADN’T BEEN kidding, Aidan thought a half hour later. He wasn’t just the only man at the party, but the butterfly theme was everywhere. From the pink paper plates, to the balloons, to the centerpieces, to the butterfly-shaped cake he would guess Shelby had made herself.

“Butterflies remind me of my Grandma Nell,” Destiny had told him. “They’re so happy and beautiful.”

And bugs, but he hadn’t said that. Instead he’d congratulated her on the upcoming birth of her daughter and had thanked her for inviting him to the party.

“What you and Shelby are doing is strange, but also kind of special,” she’d said. “Thank you for helping her.”

He’d wanted to point out that he was being helped just as much, then decided to accept the compliment. There hadn’t been very many from the women in life. He should treasure the ones he got now.

Aside from the butterfly overload, the rest of the party wasn’t too bad. The food was good. Plenty of sugar, he thought, taking in the pink, white and yellow cake, the jelly beans filling small baby bottles, the little cookies and sandwiches. For all that women claimed to eat salad, he didn’t see a green anywhere.

Taryn, the only female partner at Score, the local PR firm owned by her and two former football players, because the third had gone on to coach football at Cal State Fool’s Gold, came up to him. She held out a glass of champagne. Pink champagne.

“Don’t worry,” she told him with a laugh. “It comes by the color naturally. Something about leaving the skin on the grapes.” She frowned. “Or maybe it’s the type of grapes. All I know is that it’s delicious.”

So far he’d avoided the fizzy pink drink, but there seemed no way to do that now. “Thank you.” He took a sip and found it wasn’t that bad.

“What are they drinking?” he asked, nodding at Destiny and Isabel, both pregnant.

“Some ginger-ale-and-cranberry-juice concoction. Jo came up with it years ago. It’s a way for those going through pregnancy to not feel left out of celebrations.” She tilted her head. “I understand you recently hung out at Jo’s.”

“With Shelby. Yes.”