“Dad just called and told me to bring everyone in,” I replied, lifting my phone up.
“Dragon told me the same. Lock everything down.”
“What the fuck is going on?”
“No idea, but they’re on their way back. We should know more in the morning.”
“I’ll call half and you call half?” I asked as he opened the door.
“Why can’t the women—oh. Shit,” he said, laughing a little.
Brenna was on the floor, flat on her back and snoring. Trix was laughing hysterically at the table, while Farrah debated the merits of drunk sex, gesturing with the tequila bottle. And my mom was hanging over Tommy’s shoulder.
“Bringin’ her to bed,” Tommy said with a huff, shaking his head. “Hopefully, she doesn’t puke all over my back.”
“Ah, hell,” Casper mumbled, moving toward the table. “I’ll get Trix and you get your aunt.”
“Why can’t you get your own wife?” I asked, eyeballing Farrah.
“Because Hulk won’t kill me for carryin’ his wife to bed,” Casper said in amusement.
I scoffed, but still headed straight for my aunt.
“Wilfred!” she sang as I pulled her up from the table.
“It’s not Wilfred.”
“Wilhelmina?
“No.” I bent at the waist and threw her over my shoulder.
“Will-you-take-me-to-dinner?”
“Nope.”
“Well, then, what is it?” She asked, slapping my ass. Jesus.
“William Butler Hawthorne,” I answered, walking quickly down the hallway to Casper’s room.
“Well, that’s boring.”
“So you’ve said,” I mumbled, jerking to try and keep her on my shoulder as she reached out to both sides and tried to touch the walls.
I carried her into the room and dropped her on the bed as she laughed.
“I liked you better when you thought your middle name was butter,” she joked as I pulled her shoes off.
“No, you didn’t.”
“True. I had to wipe your ass back then.”
“Can we never talk about you wipin’ my ass again?”
“No promises,” she murmured as she rolled onto her side. “Never know when I’ll have to drop it into the conversation.”
I laughed and shook my head, shutting off the light as I left the room. By the time I’d made it back to the main room of the club, Brenna wasn’t on the floor anymore and Casper was sitting at the bar.
“You got the list?” I asked, sitting down beside him.
“Yup. I’ll take the names from the top to here,” he pointed. “You take the rest.”
“I can help, too,” Tommy said, coming out of the hallway.
“You start movin’ tables,” Casper ordered with a nod. “Gonna need the room for sleepin’ bags and shit.”
“What a fuckin’ headache,” I mumbled, scratching at my beard as I found my first name on the list.
“Better than the alternative,” Casper replied darkly.
* * *
I woke up the next morning to a little hand petting my beard.
“Good morning,” Molly said huskily as I opened my eyes. Rebel was sitting between us with a stuffed duck in her lap.
“We need to get her a dog or something,” I replied, trying not to move my mouth as Rebel’s fingers found my mustache.
“I don’t have much of a yard,” Molly mused, scooting in closer to me. At some point, she must have pulled on a t-shirt while I was sleeping, because she’d been naked when I’d come to bed. Hell of a way to fall asleep.
“We’ll get a place,” I said, turning my head toward her when Rebel got bored with my beard.
“You want to move in together?” Molly asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Marry me first?”
“Eventually,” she said with a secretive little smile.
“Wanna have more kids before Reb’s old enough to be their mother,” I told her, surprised when her head jerked back.
“Will,” she replied, her face pained.
“What?”
“I just—” she shook her head. “I’m not sure that I want more kids.”
“Oh.” My mind went completely blank for a minute. It wasn’t even something that had crossed my mind. Hell, there were four kids in my family. Everyone I was close to had at least two.
“The chances of having another child with Down syndrome is higher for me,” Molly said quietly. “And I’m not saying no, I’m just saying that’s something we’d have to discuss, you know? It’s not a fly by the seat of your pants type of decision.”
“No, I get it,” I mumbled, looking at Rebel. She was licking her lips as she poked at the duck’s eye, rubbing the pad of her finger over the smooth plastic. I imagined her as she grew. Going to school. Learning how to play a sport, maybe. Teaching her how to drive on the back of the club’s property, the same way my dad had taught me. I let myself worry about the people who would try and take advantage of her, of the inevitable discussion Molly would have to have about men and being careful. I tried to imagine her as an adult. Wondered if she’d be able to live on her own, and decided that I didn’t care if she ever moved out.