Bottom line: Pregnancy sucked. I was glad mine was almost over.
“Whatcha making?” I asked Gram as I waddled my ass into the kitchen. Shit, my hips hurt today.
“Bacon and eggs,” she replied. “You want toast, you make it.”
“Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this—” My words were cut off by someone knocking on the door. “I’ll get it,” I grumbled, grabbing my sunglasses from the table and sliding them on.
I couldn’t have been more surprised by the visitor than if the pope himself had decided to grace me with his presence.
“Uh, hey?”
“Hi, sorry. I don’t have your number or I would have called. Can I come in?” Brenna asked, shifting her baby higher on her hip.
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, stepping back from the doorway so she could scoot past me. “You can sit down if you want.” She was carrying not only the baby, but a huge bag of crap, and she looked like she was about to fall over.
“Oh, thanks,” she said, falling onto the couch with a huff. “God, I don’t remember carrying this much crap with Trix.”
“Hi, Brenna!” Gram called from the kitchen.
“Hi, Rose!”
“You want something to eat?”
“Oh no, thank you, I’m only staying for a minute.”
What the fuck was going on? What, they were buddies all of a sudden? I tossed my shades onto the coffee table, then stood there with a confused look on my face as Gram shuffled around and eventually walked toward the front door.
“Farrah, I’m just gonna go grab Will and bring him back here so you two can visit,” she informed me as she picked up her keys. “Look away from the door, you don’t have your sunglasses on.”
I turned my head away just in time to escape the sunshine pouring into the apartment, before the door was closed again.
“So, I messed shit up with us,” Brenna began, speaking so fast that her words tumbled over each other. “I don’t have any excuse, except for the fact that I was pregnant and irrational, and worried about Cody. It was stupid. I was an idiot, but I’m hoping we can start over because you seem really cool and Callie seems really cool, and the Aces are a family and I don’t want things to be weird forever—”
“Jesus, do you ever take a breath?” I asked in awe.
“Occasionally.”
“Okay, well, we’re fine. So don’t worry about it.”
“Oh,” she said with a frown. “Well, that was easier than I thought.”
“If you would have shown up a few months ago, you’d be leaving here bald after I’d snatched all of that pretty red hair right off your head. But now, eh,” I told her seriously, walking to the other end of the couch to sit down. “I’ve got bigger fish to fry, dude. I’m over it.”
“Are you sure? Because I was a total bitch.”
“Yeah, you were,” I replied with a grin. “It’s water under the bridge. Back then, Cody and I had just gotten together, and shit was weird and I was freaking out. Now? I know the dude’s not going anywhere. So, we’re good.”
The lie about knowing Cody wasn’t leaving rolled smoothly off my tongue. I’d had years of practice.
“I’m glad,” she said with a warm smile. “So, when are you due?”
“Six more weeks,” I said with a whine, leaning back into the couch cushions. “It’s going to be the longest six weeks of my life.”
“Nah, it’ll fly by,” she assured me, pulling out a little toy for her boy to stick in his mouth.
“He’s cute.”
“Thanks! He looks just like his dad.” She rolled her eyes. “It seems that dominant genes will forever make sure that my children look nothing like me.”
We talked for close to an hour before she had to leave, and by the time she’d left, I was ready for a nap. I was just dropping off when the front door opened again and Cody strode inside.
“Hey, Ladybug. What are you doing sleeping on the couch?” he asked as he made his way toward me, then leaned down to lift me into his arms. “We’ve got a perfectly good bed in the other room.”
“I hate sleeping in there without you,” I mumbled, laying my head on his shoulder. “God, I’m so done being pregnant.”
“Only a few more weeks, beautiful,” he reminded me, laying me gently in the bed.
“Will you lay with me for a while?” I asked sleepily.
I could see the indecision in his gaze, his wish to be somewhere else, but I didn’t take back my question. If he wanted to be somewhere else, he had to say it; I wasn’t going to give him an out.
“Okay, baby,” he whispered, his face softening as he slid his cut from his shoulders.
The Aces had patched him in not long after Slider had gotten out of the hospital, but I hadn’t gone to the party. I’d still been recovering from surgery at that point, and thinking back, he hadn’t invited me anyway. I didn’t complain, though, because he hadn’t stayed out late that night, and when he’d gotten home, I’d been the one to cover his new tattoos with ointment.
Yeah, tattoos. More than one. He’d gotten the big tattoo that all the guys had on his back that day, but the day before, he’d done something else . . .
• • •
“What is that?” I’d called blearily from the bed as Cody had pulled his shirt off and I caught a glimpse of some sort of bandaging on his chest.