An ear-piercing scream had everyone at the table looking at our firstborn child.
Now that one was just like his mother.
At the age of six, Niall was all boy. What he was also was a pain in the ass, and threw a goddamn fit when his ‘Phanta’ aka “Phantom” was stolen away.
And yes, at six years old, he still carried the stuffed hawk around with him everywhere he went.
At least until the real Phantom came out to play.
Then ‘Phanta’ was no longer first string.
“Give it back, you mother fuc—” Niall stopped when his mother caught him around his waist and slapped her hand over his mouth to halt his words.
I closed my eyes and waited.
Three.
Two.
One.
“Benson Bayou Beauregard,” Fancy growled. “I will literally geld you with this butcher knife if you laugh.”
I wouldn’t dare.
I’d learned my lesson the first time.
Hoax, however, didn’t care.
He laughed.
Along with her father and uncle.
Shiloh and Cheyenne were similarly outraged just like Phoebe was.
Pru, however? She was practically collapsed on the ground as she wiped tears off her cheeks.
“Do you remember when you taught my kids how to say ‘Aunt Fancy kicks ass’ and you thought it was just the ‘greatest thing in the world?’”
Phoebe moaned. “I swear to God, if you taught him to say motherfucker, I’m going to replace your birth control pills with placebos for the rest of your non-menopausal life.”
Hoax immediately stopped laughing as did Pru.
“You wouldn’t,” Pru hissed.
“Try me,” Phoebe shot back.
“Well,” Pru said. “I guess we could always discuss what you told me today.”
Phoebe’s eyes widened, and she looked at me guiltily.
“What?” I asked, knowing I wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
“Pru,” Phoebe picked up a tortilla and brandished it like a frisbee. “Don’t you dare.”
“Or what?” she asked sweetly.
“Or I’ll tell your husband what you’ve been hiding from him.”
Pru bit her lip and looked at Hoax guiltily now.
“Shit,” my dad said. “Let me guess. Pru, you’re actually pregnant with twins, and Phoebe, you’re pregnant again?”
Silence.
I looked at my wife who did look suspiciously glowy today.
My wife who’d gone to work today with a guilty look on her face as she rushed out the door without saying a word to me.
I leaned forward. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
Phoebe’s lips thinned, but she didn’t deny the allegations.
“She did,” Pru crowed.
I narrowed my eyes at my wife. “We had a deal.”
Phoebe threw her hands up. “I’m going to pull my hair out! Jesus Christ, I just want to work with adults! When I stay at home, you keep me pregnant!”
That was true.
I did do that.
But, in my defense, she jumped me the minute I walked in the door. Who was I to say no to my wife’s demands?
“Nobody ever said you couldn’t work while you were pregnant.” I tried the same old tried and true argument. “I just don’t want you working at a prison.”
“Swear to Christ,” Silas grumbled. “I can’t handle all this yelling anymore. Bayou’s right, Phoebe. You shouldn’t be at a prison working in such dangerous conditions. If you don’t like it, you need to either get fixed, or stop having sex. Those are obviously the only two options that will work for you. Now, I’m going home. Ready, Sawyer?”
His wife got up and handed my youngest, my baby girl that was just a little over four months old, Sadie, over to Sam who was still stuffing chips and hot sauce into his mouth as if he hadn’t been asked to leave ten minutes ago.
Yes, you had that right. That was four kids in five years, not including Isa.
I’d definitely kept my woman busy…and now it looked like I had one more on the way.
I stood up and started gathering kids myself, looking at the waiter who still had yet to leave, but was obviously unsure whether he should ask us again or keep listening to the show.
He chose to listen, obviously, and he looked like he was enraptured.
“All right, children,” I called out. “Let’s go.”
All of my kids that could move on their own did, and I picked Sadie up from Sam’s arms and said, “Night, y’all.”
Sam mumbled a ‘night’ from around a tortilla.
I rolled my eyes, winked at Cheyenne, and started marching out while Fancy said her goodbyes.
By the time we got to the Suburban, I had all of our kids strapped in.
“You know what this means, don’t you?”
“No,” Phoebe said, shaking her head. “I refuse.”
“It’s out of your control.”
***
Hours later, once the kids were all in bed, and the house was locked up tight, I walked to my bedroom and quietly closed the door behind me.
We’d moved into our new place a little over three years ago and now had fifteen acres outside of town next to Hoax, who’d purchased acreage from the same man.
The house was exactly as my Fancy had wanted it, and each paint color, crown molding, light fixture, and bookshelf was something that we’d always dreamed of.