by Lauren Rowe
Josh smirks. “Sorry.” He kisses Gracie on her rosy cheek. “Sorry, Gracie. To OAP Cruz, the effing genius who kicks butt and takes names and has thankfully made my brother moderately tolerable to be around, if only occasionally. We all thank you profusely for that, Sarah.”
I nod my acknowledgment and glance at Jonas, yet again wanting to share some sort of humorous nonverbal exchange—maybe this time about Josh’s constant but clueless reference to me as ‘OAP Cruz’—but Jonas is too busy glaring at Josh to pay me any mind.
“To my gorgeous Party Girl with a Hyphen,” Josh continues, unfazed by Jonas’ searing eyes on him. “Even when you’re barfing, which you do a lot, you’re still beautiful.” His face ignites exactly the way it did when he toasted her at their wedding two and a half years ago. His voice turns earnest. “You rock my effing world, Party Girl.”
Kat smiles. “You rock mine, Playboy.”
“And, finally, to little Miss Sparkle-Boots here.” He hugs Gracie into his chest. “You’re so much like your sassy mommy, you kinda freak me out, kid.” He kisses her cheek.
Gracie holds up her cup. “Hee, hee!”
Josh laughs. “Okay, okay, hang on. It’s almost time.” He holds up his drink. “And to the three mini-Faradays on the way—please, guys, or gals, or whatever combination thereof, give your beleaguered mommies a break so they can stop barfing and get some much-needed sleep, respectively.”
“Amen,” Kat says.
“Please and thank you,” I chime in.
Josh turns to Gracie. “Okay, you ready to clink, Little G?”
“Hee, hee!” Gracie shouts.
“Hold on,” Kat says. “One more toast.” She holds up her glass. “To the Playboy with the Heart of Gold. You injected me with your super-sperm and turned me into a baby-incubating-barf-o-matic.” She grins. “And I’m so effing happy you did.”
“Wow, that was beautiful, babe—pure poetry. Brought a tear to my eye.”
Kat shrugs. “I’ve told you a thousand times. There are two things I do well in this life: men and PR.”
“Well, I can most definitely attest to the first one.”
Gracie squirms with impatience against her daddy’s chest. “Hee, hee?”
“Okay, okay,” Josh says. “The natives are getting restless. Hold up your sippy, Little G. We’re gonna say it now.” We all hold up our drinks, including Gracie. “To the Faradays!” Josh booms. “Because this family effing rocks, people.”
“Here, here! To the Faradays!” We all clink our drinks, each of us taking special care to lean over and bump Gracie’s plastic orange cup.
“We’re getting her trained young,” Kat says to Josh, and they both laugh.
“Hee, hee!” Gracie squeals, and we all laugh.
And, right on cue, there it is—that wave of overwhelming joy I feel every time Josh makes his “To the Faradays” toast and actually means to include me. Everything about the way my life has turned out fills me with a sense of joy and love that takes my breath away. Or is it the sharp tightness in my belly that’s taking my breath away right now? Because, holy hell. Wow, that hurts. I bend over and gasp.
“Sarah,” Jonas says, lurching toward me.
I take a deep, long breath. “I’m fine, baby. It’s already gone.”
“What’s gone? Crazy Monkey doing Zumba?”
That sure didn’t feel like Crazy Monkey doing Zumba that time. But I’m not sure. I shrug, unable to answer the question with any degree of certainty.
“Sarah, what did it feel like?” Kat asks. She looks alarmed.
“Like, um, a sudden tightness across my belly. Right through here. Like a really sharp squeeze.”
“Hmm. Sounds like Braxton Hicks,” Kat says. “That’s pretty normal. Probably just your body gearing up. Did it hurt or was it like an uncomfortable squeeze?”
I shrug. “I dunno. Everything hurts lately.”
“Let’s go to the hospital right now,” Jonas says, his voice tight.
“Hang on,” Kat says, her voice brimming with authority. “Do you feel it right now?”
I shake my head.
“When’s your next appointment?”
“Tuesday.”
“And you don’t feel it now?”
“No.”
Jonas looks like he’s literally holding his breath. “I think we should go to the hospital now.”
“Baby, if it were up to you, we’d live at the freaking hospital around the clock. We can’t keep rushing down there every time I feel a pang. They’re gonna start locking the windows and doors when they see us driving into the parking lot.”
He sighs. “I don’t care if we embarrass ourselves. Better safe than sorry. I don’t want to wait for Tuesday.”
“It’s two days away,” I say.
“If you feel it again, will you promise to call the doctor?” Kat asks.
“Yes.”
“Well, either way, I’m taking you in tomorrow, just to be on the safe side.”
“Jonas, I’ve got a million things to do at work tomorrow to get ready for the start of my maternity leave and—”
“I’m not waiting ’til Tuesday. I’m taking you tomorrow. End of story.”
“Aren’t you and Josh supposed to go to Denver tomorrow?” I ask. I look at Josh for backup, but he’s clearly not going to side with me this time.
“Yeah, Denver was the plan,” Jonas says. “But I just changed the plan.”
“I don’t need Jonas to come with me,” Josh says. “He’s just the pretty face of Climb and Conquer—the ‘something shiny.’ I’m the brains behind the whole operation.”
Jonas doesn’t even acknowledge his brother’s comment. His eyes are searing holes into my face. “Tomorrow,” he commands.
I sigh loudly. There’s no use in arguing with him. And, hell, he’s probably right. Living with Jonas and his paranoia about every little pang I feel, I can’t even gauge what’s a normal reaction anymore. “Okay,” I say. “You’re right—better safe than sorry, always.”
Jonas exhales. “Good. Thank you.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he repeats, seemingly to himself. He looks at Gracie and unsuccessfully attempts a smile. “Will you come out back and help me grill up the fish, Little G?”
“No, Jonas, don’t take her out back,” Kat says. “I don’t want her going near the pool.”
“Jonas had a fence installed around it last week,” I say. “I went out there to swim laps yesterday and couldn’t figure out how to open the latch on the gate for, like, ten minutes.” I shoot Jonas a wan smile, but he doesn’t return it. His face is tight. His eyes are dark. Oh, jeez. What the hell has gotten into him lately? He’s just not himself.
“Okay, but make sure she wears her jacket,” Kat says. “It’s a little chilly outside.”
“Come on, honey. You heard your mother,” Josh says. He bundles Gracie into her jacket. “Are you gonna be okay, babe? Do you need anything?”
“I’m good. I’ve got my Saltines and club soda.” Kat lifts her club soda like she’s partying at Mardi Gras. “I’m living large, peeps.” She pats her belly. “Literally and figuratively.”
“Well, I’ve got my phone in my pocket. Text me if you need anything so you don’t have to get up. And hey, for Chrissakes, don’t barf on my brother’s white couch. You know how freakish he is about keeping his surroundings pristine.”
“I make no promises. The barf wants what the barf wants.”
“Okay, cowgirl,” Josh says to Gracie, throwing her onto Jonas’ broad back. “Ride like the wind.”
Jonas reaches behind him and grabs ahold of Gracie. “Say, ‘giddy-up,’” he says.
“Giddy-up,” Josh replies, slapping Jonas’ ass.
“Not you, dummy. I already know you can say it. Come on, Little G, say, ‘Giddy-up.’”
“Gidd-ahp,” Gracie says.
“Yeehaw! Hang on really tight, cowgirl,” Jonas says. “Because this horse is a wild, crazy stallion.” With that, he bucks, whinnies, a
nd takes off galloping toward the sliding glass door on the far side of the room.
I watch Jonas as he goes, my heart physically aching with my love for him.
When he reaches the sliding glass door, he opens it, double-checks that Gracie’s securely holding onto him, and then gallops outside—taking my entire heart, soul, and every source of earthly happiness with him as he goes.
Chapter 4
Sarah
The minute the guys are safely out of earshot, Kat instantly leans in like she’s planning a murder. “What the hell is up with Jonas?”
“Oh my God. You see it, too?”
“How could I not? The man is always intense, but, good lord.”
“Yeah, I know. He’s freaking out.”
“Ya think? Jeez.”
“He won’t talk about it.”
Kat frowns. “Maybe he’s scared? Having a baby is a huge adjustment—twins even more so.”
“No, he’s not scared about becoming a father. He wants to be a daddy more than anything.” I rub my forehead. “I’m guessing he’s worried something might go wrong. But since he won’t talk about whatever the fuck is rolling around inside that complicated head of his, that’s just my best guess. It certainly doesn’t help that I keep buckling over with aches and pains every twenty minutes. Speaking of which. Ow.”
Kat is instantly alarmed. “Another pain?”
I nod.
“The same kind as before?”
I shake my head. “No, this time it’s just Crazy Monkey. He’s a little troublemaker, that one.”
“I think you’d better call the doctor, Sarah.”
The pain subsides. “Jonas? Is that you dressed in a Kat-suit?”
Kat obviously doesn’t think I’m funny.
“I’m fine now. That time it was just Crazy Monkey stomping on a nerve, I swear.”
“Don’t discount Jonas too quickly, Sarah. Your hypersensitive husband’s been right before, you may recall—very, very right. You thought he was being paranoid and you wound up bleeding out on a bathroom floor.”
“Oh, I’ve learned my lesson about respecting Jonas’ intuition, believe me. But if we went to the hospital every single time he thought we should, we’d literally be living there. I’m not even exaggerating. We’d literally never leave. He’s kind of gone off the deep end lately, Kat. Being around him and his special brand of crazy makes it hard for me to figure out when I’m not being crazy enough.”
“Just err on the side of Jonas’ brand of crazy, okay? As paranoid as he is, you’re sometimes crazy in the other direction. Seriously, you can be in total denial sometimes.”
She’s right. Denial’s been my coping mechanism of choice my whole life. “I’d never take a risk when it comes to my little monkeys,” I say, holding up three fingers. “Girl Scout’s honor.”
“Were you a Girl Scout?”
“No. Were you?”
“Yeah, of course. Got all my badges and everything.” Kat suddenly turns a dark shade of green—a hue reminiscent of a Girl Scout’s uniform, actually, and pulls a package of Saltines from her bag. “Just be extra careful, Sarah, especially with twins.”
“Are you feeling sick?”
“Yeah. It just came over me like a thunderbolt.” She nibbles on a cracker. “Ugh. This sucks donkey balls so hard.”
“Such a bummer, Kat.”
“Eh, it’s okay. It’s totally worth it. But, yeah, it still sucks donkey balls.”
“So, Kat, can I ask you a kind of personal question?”
“Of course. Distract me from my barfitude.”
“How careful are you and Josh when you’re pregnant?”
“What do you mean? The best part about being pregnant is you can’t get pregnant.”
“Not that kind of careful. I mean is Josh extra careful with you—like is he über worried about denting a baby-head?”
“Ha! Josh? No. Josh pretty much goes to town on me however he likes, whenever he likes, whether I’m pregnant or not, any which way. My man’s huge, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not in any danger of denting a baby-head way up in my frickin’ uterus.”
I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Okay, we just hurtled into TMI-territory on a bullet train.”
“Oh, please. There’s no such thing as TMI between sisters.” She laughs. “So, Jonas has been insisting on ultra-careful sex lately? Is that what you’re saying?”
I bite my lip. “Well, to be fair, Jonas is just following doctor’s orders. And, trust me, even ultra-careful sex with Jonas is pretty freaking awesome, I must say.”
Kat giggles. “Lovely.”
“But, oh my god, Kat, it’s just that I’m so horny these days and I’m chomping at the bit all the time. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“Welcome to pregnancy hormones.”
“Oh, man.” I sigh. “The doctor told us not to get too freaky-crazy, especially in the third trimester, and I guess I’m just wondering where the line for ‘too freaky-crazy’ begins.”
“Your doctor didn’t spell it out for you?”
“Well, no. Should I have asked?”
“Why not?”
“Huh.”
“Just ask her tomorrow.”
I twist my mouth. Talking to my doctor tomorrow isn’t gonna enlighten me about whether Jonas and I are allowed to use that box of goodies tonight. “Is there anything at all you consider an absolute no-no during pregnancy?” I ask.
“Well, hmm.” She purses her lips, considering. “There are some things that are logistically harder to pull off, for sure—just because my belly gets in the way or because certain things make me barf—and, oddly enough, Josh isn’t too keen on getting barfed on during sex. But, nope, nothing’s off limits, as far as I’m concerned. Except, now that I think about it, I read somewhere that reverse-cowgirl’s not a good idea, but I hate that position, anyway, so no big loss there. Totally overrated. But, hey, other than that, nope.”
“Good lord. I feel like I’ve unleashed the kraken,” I say.
“What exactly is your freakin’ question, girl? Why are you dancing around it? It’s me, remember? You can tell me anything.” She squints at me. “You’re talking about anal, aren’t you?”
I roll my eyes. “No. I’m not talking about anal.”
“Oh, Sarah Cruz. You little freak. Just tell me. What exactly do you want to do that you think you can’t do while you’re pregnant? Now you’ve got me really curious.”
I glance to the sliding glass door to make sure Jonas and Josh aren’t heading back into the house. “Well.”
“Yes?”
“Jonas gave me a little box of goodies—some assorted toys to try after the babies are born—and I’m dying to try them out tonight.”
She puts down her package of Saltines with sudden emphasis. “Well, Miss Freak, you have officially distracted me from my queasy stomach. Tell me more, dear sister, about your box of goodies. I want specifics.”
I suddenly feel too embarrassed to elaborate. “Just, you know... a whole bunch of different stuff. I’ve never tried any of it.”
“You’ve never tried toys before?”
I shake my head. I can feel my cheeks growing hot.
“Oh, my sweet little Sarah.” She chuckles to herself. “Well, hate to break it to you, but I’m guessing if toys are a brand new thing for you, then maybe third trimester of a high-risk pregnancy isn’t the time to try them out. Just ask your doctor tomorrow.”
I pout. “You’re probably right.”
“And, just in case you’re wondering, I’d think anal wouldn’t be such a good idea, either, if you’re not really used to it.”
I throw my hands over my face to hide my blush. I can’t believe how comfortable Kat is talking about sex.
Kat laughs. “You should see your face right now.” She looks toward the sliding glass door. “You know, talking about all this stuff is making me wanna pull Josh aside and surprise him with a little quickie.”
“Hey, go fo
r it. I’ll watch Gracie for you. Use Josh’s old room in the back.”
“Really?”
“Of course. And no quickie required. I’ll hang out with Little G as long as you want.”
“Thanks, girl. You have no idea how much I appreciate this. It gets harder and harder to be spontaneous when you’ve got a toddler—and Josh really, really, really likes spontaneity.”
“Enough with the TMI. Please.”
Kat laughs. “Well, thanks for being my wing-woman, girl. You’ll see, once your babies are screaming in your ear, you’ll appreciate any chance to spontaneously unleash your freak, too.”
“Are you sure you’re up for this, Kat? You look kinda green.”
“Oh, pfft,” Kat scoffs. “With what I’ve got in mind to do to Josh, he won’t mind one bit if I barf all over him.” She winks.
Chapter 5
Jonas
“Bro, what the fuck is going on with you?”
I flip the swordfish over on the grill.
“Are you gonna talk to me or just keep acting like a fucking serial killer all night?”
I place the veggie kabobs on the grill, one by one, making sure to keep their spacing equidistant.
“Hello? Earth to Jonas.”
“I’m gonna act like a fucking serial killer all night.”
Josh sighs loudly.
“Have you talked to Henn recently?” I ask.
“Yeah. I talk to him all the time.”
“Is he still monitoring the situation carefully?” I ask.
“Yeah. He’s on it. There’s still no indication of any problem.”
“When was the last time you talked to him about that, specifically?”
Josh looks up, thinking. “Maybe a month ago? He’s on it.”
“Well, a lot can happen in a month. I’d better call him.” I pull out my cell phone.
“He’s monitoring it, Jonas. At the first inkling of a problem, he’ll let us know. He cares as much about keeping things contained as we do.”
“I’d like to hear him say that.”
Josh throws up his hands. “Call him then, fine. Jesus. But not right now.” He looks over at Gracie. “Let’s just have ourselves a chill Sunday afternoon barbeque, okay? We’ll call him together from the office, first thing tomorrow.”
