I watch as Kelsey digests the words, taking a few bites of her bagel, so I do the same. Really, there was a lot of pillow talk that happened after Tate and I reconnected. He attempted to apologize. I told him it wasn’t necessary, going as far as covering his mouth with my hand. He let me talk, then. It was my turn to apologize. I clearly wanted more of his time in the relationship part of the equation. It was me who didn’t vocalize it as well as I know and could have, so we talked, God did we talk. Not making it to the bed was part of the fun. It was Tate and me on the couch, my body on top of his, both of us naked, me touching him in small insignificant ways, one of his hands in my hair, the other holding the cheek of my ass.
“Well, if you two are happy, that’s all that matters at the end of the day. Love is love, no matter how many ways you cut it. All I ask is that you make sure Tate is okay with being an uncle because that’s going to happen sooner rather than later.” She leaves me on a whopper of a cliffhanger. I choke on the last bite of my sandwich, fumbling for my drink to swallow the rest down. This is what I get for shoving too much food in my mouth. Now I’m sitting here stuck, trying not to die or need the Heimlich.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re pregnant?” I ask, moving until I’m crawling on my knees, literally, until I’m sitting right beside her, needing to know if I’m going to be Auntie Emie, because seriously, I will be the best ever, like it’s in the bag. My niece or nephew will be spoiled with love, attention, the cutest clothes, and all the noisiest toys money can buy.
“No, oh my gosh, no. Well, not yet. That doesn’t mean we aren’t trying. Jesus, my husband is hot as hell, and I’m shocked he hasn’t gotten me pregnant with one look, but yeah, we’re not not trying. I’m not on birth control, he’s not using condoms, so the likelihood of it happening soon is there.” I’m pretty sure Kels can tell by my reaction that I am absolutely freaking over the moon.
“Snap to it. You need to get pregnant, stat. Plus, I won’t scare Tate away too soon if I suddenly get baby fever. That might take nine or so months or, you know, when my niece or nephew is born. I bet it really kicks in.” Kelsey puts her food down, grabs me by the neck, and hugs me. It’s awkward and uncomfortable on my end. I don’t care, though; hugging my sister is worth getting a crick in my neck, especially if she’s talking babies.
“I’ll work on it. Lord knows Deke has really got in on the action.” I scrunch my nose and make a gagging noise.
“Too much information, Kels, way too much information.” Our hug ends, but I don’t move back to where I was sitting. Kelsey and I sit together talking more about our lives and what the future is going to hold for the both of us as well as Beach Babe Boutique.
epilogue
TATE
Eight Weeks Later
I’ve been waiting for Emily to admit defeat and tell me what she’s either not admitted to herself or hasn’t figured out how to tell me. Either way, what we have is rock solid. Shit happens; it’s part of life. Em being sick is unheard of, so when she’s running to the bathroom or having me pull over on the side of the road for her to lose whatever she last ate, I didn’t say a word, not even when I noticed her holding her tits to her chest, knowing they were hurting. It sucked not to say, ‘Hey, want to tell me anything?’. I didn’t, though; not yet at least.
“Tate, you don’t have to be in here with me.” She’s currently hovering over the toilet in the bathroom, and it’s not from drinking either because I’ve noticed she quit that a few weeks ago, too. I ignore her, grabbing two washcloths from the linen closet, one for her mouth, the other for the back of her neck. Who knows how long she’ll be like this this time around. I get them both wet, then wring out the excess water before moving back to where Em has her arms crossed over one another and is once again becoming sick.
“Not going to leave you, babe. Especially with you like this.” I place one cloth on the back of her neck. A sigh leaves her lips, and her body relaxes as much as it can in this position. “Are you ready to admit you have something to tell me?” I ask, because this is getting out of hand. Surely, if I’ve figured it out, so has everyone else.