“Gross. It’s my brother we’re talking about.” Ash shuddered. “Come to think of it, other than you, Belle, all my friends are also my sisters-in-law, and all of them got knocked up by my brothers. It’s alarming.”
“What’s alarming is this baby is still inside me.” I pointed at my huge belly.
“Lucky kid.” My husband strolled into our room, cool and collected in his designer suit. His posture alone made me drool a little. Cillian had been most accommodating when we found out my pregnancy came with an increased sexual appetite. However, in the past couple of months, having sex became such a chore, these days we were relying on oral favors and Netflix to keep us busy at night.
“Satan,” Belle saluted. My sister and my husband got along fine these days. He’d even helped her buy out her two business partners, so now she was the sole owner of Madame Mayhem.
“Lucifer,” Sailor greeted.
She, too, had no beef with her brother-in-law anymore.
“Kill.” Ash nodded.
He ignored the women in the room, sauntering in my direction to lean down and press a long, close-mouthed kiss to my forehead.
“How’re you doing, Flower Girl?”
“Tired. Sleepy.” I stretched lazily, smiling up at him.
He rubbed my stomach through the stretchy orange fabric of my pajamas.
“And the little guy?”
“Great. I think he’s going to be a soccer player. He’s been kicking up a storm all morning.”
Cillian raised his eyebrows. “Whatever floats his boat during adolescence. But once he’s out of university, he’s going to have to take his place at Royal Pipelines.”
Groaning, I grabbed the tip of my husband’s tie and tugged him to me, shutting him up with a kiss. “We’ve been through this, hubs. He is going to be whatever he wants to be. He is not you.”
We’d had a lot of discussions about what it meant for Cillian to be Cillian. The heir to Royal Pipelines. How maybe, if it weren’t for the burden of his lineage, he wouldn’t have had to find creative and destructive ways to deal with his disorder. A disorder that still—apart from myself, Andrew, and Joelle Arrowsmith—no one knew anything about.
Not even his mother, who—Kill told me once—probably blocked the memory of that Swiss lab in order to protect herself.
“Of course,” he said flatly. “He can be whatever he wants. A soccer player, a musician, a pool boy.”
I shot him a look.
“But he’ll want to be a CEO,” Kill finished, grinning.
“All righty.” Belle tapped my ankles. “I think we’re going to leave you to it before you rip off each other’s clothes and have very pregnant sex in front of us. It’s been real. Pers, Mom says she is coming this week, and that she’s staying. She has a feeling you will pop over the weekend.” She stood, motioning for my friends to follow.
“I’ll have Petar get one of the guest rooms ready,” Kill said.
“But I haven’t rubbed Persy’s tummy yet today!” Ash protested.
“God, Ash, you need your own baby.” Sailor laughed, pushing her out.
“I’ve a feeling she’ll get one soon,” Belle murmured, closing the door behind them.
Kill flashed the door an irritated look, then turned his gaze back to me.
I raised my palms up. “I can’t help what leaves my sister’s mouth.”
“If you could, you’d have a full-time job managing it. Have you heard from Joelle this week? She asked when she could stop by.”
Shortly after Cillian and I got back together, I resumed my communication with Joelle Arrowsmith. She was going through a divorce from Andrew, who was still in therapy, working in the private sector as a legal consultant and trying to become a better father for Tree and Tinder. Joelle was relieved when I started visiting her again, often with Cillian, who kept an eye on Tinder and often provided Joelle advice and guidance.
I’d even taken the kids and my husband to see Mrs. Veitch for a Christmas celebration at her nursing home. She died a few weeks after in her sleep.
“I need to call her back, but I’m hoping the next time I see her, I’ll have a baby in my hands. Can you help me up? I need a shower.” I wobbled about the bed.
“I’ve got you.” He scooped me up in his arms and carried me into our en suite. There, I stood under the streaming showerheads, steam clouding the glass doors while Kill leaned against the marble countertops, keeping me company.
“Sailor is starting to show,” I observed, lathering my arms with soap.
“Hmm,” Kill answered noncommittally. I could see him stroking his chin from the mirror in front of us. “Does Ash really want a baby?”
I shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me. I’m twenty-seven. That makes her…what? Twenty-six? Not too farfetched even though she still has her residency to complete.” Ash was a doctor now. “We’ve always been the romantics out of the bunch. We’ve always wanted big families.”