And I don’t blame her.
At least she didn’t come after me with a pitchfork, or get the stake ready for a burning. The twins already know, which just leaves Dean, Archer…and Quinn. I don’t want my boyfriend’s sister to hate me. And I don’t want to lose the woman who’s quickly becoming my best friend.
“We’ll work on it.” I smile and pet the kitten. “He is very friendly. Are they ready to leave their mom yet?”
“They are, but don’t tell Archer,” Quinn whispers. “I’ll miss them.”
“Maybe we can take two,” I say. Then you’ll be able to visit, and you can keep the others, right?”
“I’d like it.”
“You have enough space.”
“That’s what I said!” Quinn laughs. We’re sitting in her living room, and five of the eight cats are in here with us. Emma laughs when a fat orange cat comes over and rubs his head on her. He lazily saunters off and she crawls after him.
“She’s fast!”
“I know.” Quinn gets up to grab her baby. “Too fast. I’m already getting anxiety about the balcony looking over the living room. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking she fell over.”
“That’s so unlikely to happen,” I tell her. “Lots of people have fancy catwalk thingies like that in their houses.”
“I know.” She wrinkles her nose. “I told Archer I want to line the floor with mattresses just in case.”
“You’ll encourage her to jump,” Archer teases, coming into the living room. “I would have if I were a kid.”
“Don’t give him ideas,” Quinn whisper-yells, but Jackson is too enthralled in the kitten he’s renamed Salsa to hear anything. I yawn and look at the clock. Thank God it’s almost bedtime. I’m wiped out.
It’s been a long fucking day, which I feel like is a summary of my life. Well, until Weston, that is. Things changed the moment I stepped foot on his front porch, and I think I knew, deep down, that I wanted that change.
I needed that change.
Emma slips as she’s crawling and hits the floor. Her two little bottom teeth puncture her lip, and blood starts spilling out of her mouth. Quinn has a moment of panic, picking up Emma and going back and forth between checking her mouth and wanting to comfort her baby. I run into the kitchen to get a towel, and Archer calmly sits on the floor and tells Quinn it’s okay.
“The blood is mixing with her saliva and it looks like she’s bleeding more than she really is,” he says.
Jackson gets freaked out, and I take him into the kitchen to avoid seeing the blood. Emma is screaming and crying, and he’s upset that his cousin is hurt and upset. It’s pure chaos for a good five minutes, but then we get everyone settled down and up to bed.
Half an hour later, I shut the door to the guest room, sneaking out. Jackson fell asleep fast tonight, and while I could lay there and snuggle with him, I know if I didn’t get up, I’d end up falling asleep too.
“Should we have cake with our tea?” Quinn asks. I wash out the pink skull tea set Weston and Jackson got for me as a surprise.
“Of course.”
“Good. Because I made one earlier today. I was craving Funfetti cake bad.”
“Craving?” I raise my eyebrows.
“I’m not pregnant. Or else I better not be. I really want to go on Tower of Terror on our honeymoon,” she laughs. “But I am dying to have another.”
“You’re a good mom. You should have at least one more.”
“We want three or four.” She opens the pantry and all the cats come running, circling her feet and meowing.
“I take that back. Maybe you shouldn’t have this many cats.”
“Their meowing is like singing.” She looks at Archer, who’s sitting at the large island counter eating. “Isn’t it, babe?”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s music to my ears.”
I laugh and reach down, picking up one of the kittens. “Are you Salsa?”
“That’s Binx,” Archer says. “I mean, not like I can tell them apart or care or anything.”
“He really likes Binx,” Quinn loudly whispers.
“I guess you’re staying then, huh, little guy?”
“He is.”
Quinn sets the cake down, shoos the cats off the counter at least a dozen times, and heats up water for our tea. Archer goes upstairs to bed, saying he has early surgery in the morning, leaving Quinn and me downstairs to eat and talk until we go to bed as well.
I cut into my cake and sip my tea. I look at Quinn, excited to have someone I can actually call a friend. And she’s my boyfriend’s sister, which makes things ten times better.
Well, almost.
“Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“Sure.” She adds more sugar to her tea. “What is it?”
“It’s more like a confession. Promise you won’t judge me?”
“I promise.”
And she doesn’t.* * *