71-Chad Wesley Nightingale

Bridget’s POV

“He is amazing!” Marcella squeals over FaceTime. “Born early, healthy?”

“Well, 11 lbs, 3 oz, 22 inches, ten fingers, ten toes, head full of hair and lungs better than yours,” Wesley tells her.

“Did you say 11 lbs, 3 oz?” Marcella repeats.

“Without drugs,” Wesley tells her.

“Bridget, are you okay?” Marcella asks.

“Yes, I’m fine, I healed,” I smile, holding Chad up.

“You are a warrior, lady,” Marcella smiles.

Chad starts to fuss.

Wesley takes the phone away, while I feed him.

“Evander may have already seen the goods, but he doesn’t need a reminder I won,” Wesley says.

“Wesley!” I slap his arms.

“Spoken like a guy who ain't seen what I got,” Evander says. “I’ve seen them both man. I won, trust me.”

“Hey,” I yell, shaking my head. He doesn’t have to be such an ass. “At least Wesley can get it up.”

Wesley’s jaw drops.

“Don’t,” Marcella yells. I’m guessing stopping Evander from responding.

“We should end this call,” Evander says. “I hear Spencer.”

“Wes, Bridget, great job. You