French Roast (The French Twist Series Book 4)

by Glynis Astie

  “Sydney would never conduct herself in such a fashion, Maya,” Kate remarked. “That’s what big sisters are for—to handle bullies.” She illustrated her point by forming a fist with one hand and repeatedly smacking it into the other hand, never taking her eyes from Maya.

  Maya surprised us all by looking more than a little intimidated.

  Taking in that incredible scene gave me my first genuine laugh in a long time. It never ceased to amaze me how my sister had such a knack for making me feel better. Sometimes it took longer than others (case in point: two months since my last true feeling of happiness), but she always found a way.

  I approached Kate and hugged her as best I could with such a large impediment. (This boy’s birth weight was going to be astronomical.)

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “I love you more.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Got room for one more?”

  Kate and I instinctively opened our arms to accommodate Charlie. He gamely joined in, doing his best not to squish his in-utero nephew.

  “This is getting a little harder, isn’t it?” Charlie observed.

  “You’re not wrong,” I joked, using one of our favorite expressions from childhood.

  “Well, before you know it, you’ll be back in shape and you’ll have another little one in tow,” Zoe reflected.

  I rested my chin on my brother’s shoulder, so I could focus on his wife. “It feels so far away.”

  “Doesn’t look so far away from where I’m standing.”

  “Shut up, Maya!”

  A chorus of laughter erupted at the ferocity of Louis’ rebuke. I carefully extracted myself from my siblings’ embrace and waddled over to my incensed husband.

  “You’re an incredible man,” I murmured. “Thank you for defending my honor.”

  He kissed me tenderly before replying, “I’m the only one who gets to make fun of your weight.”

  I playfully smacked his butt. “You almost had me.”

  “Break it up, you two!” Zoe took my hand and led me to the kitchen table. “Now, sit down, put your feet up and tell us what you’re going to name this little guy.”

  I complied with her first two commands quickly, but took my time with the third.

  “Well, um, you see…” I threw a pleading glance at Louis.

  He cleared his throat before declaring, “We can’t agree on a name.”

  “Zip it!” Kate barked at an open-mouthed Maya. She then sat next to me and asked, “Do you have any contenders?”

  Reluctantly, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a well-worn piece of paper. I unfolded it slowly, feeling extremely self-conscious about sharing our uncertainty with the group before me. Granted, they were my family, but they could be a tad judgmental at times.

  “I was thinking Matthew…”

  Louis shook his head. “But I still don’t like it.”

  I frowned. “Well, I don’t like Tyler.”

  “But it’s such a great name!” Louis maintained.

  “Yeah, if you want to get in a barroom brawl,” Maya commented, knowing full well he wanted to name our son after the character Tyler Durden in Fight Club.

  At least her snark was working for me this time.

  “Come on!” Charlie insisted. “There has to be a name you both like.”

  Louis and I exchanged dubious looks.

  Zoe chuckled. “Bottom line is, this kid needs a name.”

  “Yeah!” Nick chimed in, mimicking one of our favorite lines from Trading Places.

  I bit my lip. “Cameron?”

  Maya shook her head. “Too reminiscent of Ferris.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Kate wondered.

  “Uh, absolutely.” Maya declared. “Cameron has good qualities, but people always remember him as an indecisive weenie.”

  Charlie laughed. “This is just one representation of the name, Maya.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “But it’s the most widely known!”

  “I beg to differ.” Kate scoffed. “What about James Cameron?”

  “Last name doesn’t count,” Maya pointed out.

  Kate sighed. “Cameron Diaz.”

  Maya raised her eyebrows. “You want to name him after a chick?”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “I give up.”

  Maya smirked. “Took you long enough.”

  Nick shot Maya a stern glare before turning back to me. “What else you got?”

  I reviewed our list. “James.”

  Silence.

  “We could call him Jimmy.”

  “The name doesn’t go with his French father,” Maya asserted.

  I couldn’t begin to form a response to her logic, so I returned to the list.

  “Nathan.”

  I scanned the room to find a collection of cocked eyebrows and thoughtful expressions. Despite their opinionated nature, it appeared my family wasn’t going to help us get any closer to making this monumental decision.

  “I like Griffin.”

  I should have known Luc would be the voice of reason.

  “Me too!” Ginny exclaimed. Anything reminiscent of Harry Potter was pure gold in her book.

  Hmm. Griffin. Griffin!

  My eyes settled upon Louis and he nodded vigorously. “Love it!”

  I held my arms out to Luc. “You’re a genius, my darling!”

  “Of course I am, Mommy.” He hugged me gingerly. “I’m your son.”

  Kate gave Maya a preemptive glower and then the room was overtaken by applause. Luc took several bows, appearing to be very pleased with himself. And why shouldn’t he be? He had had the distinct honor of giving his baby brother a name.

  Once the festivities had ended, Kate put on a movie for the kids while the adults began the tedious task of cleaning up. It was truly amazing what four little ones could accomplish in the span of two hours. (Coco was still in the observation stage.) Despite the presence of party games and outdoor activities, they still managed to dismantle the living room to the point of it being almost unrecognizable. Of course, they were on a school-is-almost-out-for-summer high with a birthday-cake-and-ice-cream twist. A frightening combination if ever there were one.

  Kate and Zoe were chatting softly as they organized the toys in the living room, Nick and Louis were cleaning up the grill and patio area and Maya was advising Devon as to their latest vacation itinerary while the poor man tried to clean up the kitchen. Charlie must have drawn the short straw, and had thereby been relegated to investigating the bathroom. Little boys hopped up on sugar often didn’t feel the need to aim.

  I had been relegated to the dining room. (My tush greatly preferred the padded chairs to the wooden chairs in the kitchen. Not to mention the absence of my wise-cracking friend…) I was grateful to have the peace—kids seemed to be just as loud when happy as when unhappy—and to have my feet up once more.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. “How are you feeling, Syd?”

  I peered up into my brother’s concerned face. “Happy to be sitting.”

  “I hear that.” He sank into the chair opposite mine. “These kids sure are good at running us ragged.”

  “Speaking of,” I smirked, “how was the bathroom?”

  His face darkened. “You don’t want to know.”

  I giggled and instantly felt guilty. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t laugh.”

  “You’re right! You shouldn’t laugh. You’re about to have two directionally-challenged kids to deal with.”

  His choice of expression made me laugh even more.

  “I’m sorry, ‘directionally challenged?’”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “I do?” My giggles were rapidly becoming guffaws. The last semblance of my ladylike behavior had left the building.

  “Laugh it up now, Syd,” he chuckled, “you’re going to need to start investing in liquid-repellant walls.”

  My eyes widened in shock briefly before the humor of the situation took over my mind once more
. Knowing he was most likely exaggerating for effect, I allowed myself to fall down the rabbit hole into a wonderful fantasy land where everything was happy and light, where sadness simply evaporated into the radiant sunbeams.

  Charlie’s observance of my initial surprise made his chuckles take on a life of their own. We continued to laugh with abandon until we heard a series of determined footsteps.

  Kate came running in with her signature “you-should-know-better” face. “Shhhh! You’re going to wake the children.”

  Charlie wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “They fell asleep?”

  She nodded. “In one big heap on the couch. It’s adorable.”

  Charlie rose and pulled out his phone. “Better get a photo for M—”

  The three of us froze. It had been at least a month since any of us had made that mistake.

  Kate put her hand on his arm. “She would have loved it.”

  I grinned. “Can’t you just picture her standing there with her camera, taking photos from every single angle, trying to capture the perfect moment?”

  Charlie returned to his chair. “She wanted to get everything right.”

  “She did,” Kate murmured.

  “I can’t believe she’ll never meet him.” I lowered my eyes to my lap.

  “It does feel extremely weird,” Charlie agreed.

  “What would Mom tell us to do?” Kate wondered. “What piece of wisdom would she advise us with in this situation?”

  I shrugged. No one had ever made the mistake of calling me wise. Pretty? Sure. Smart? Absolutely. Funny? Quite often—though the humor was usually unintentional on my part. Sensitive? You betcha. A little crazy? More times than I can count. But wise? No, ma’am.

  Charlie sighed. “I certainly don’t have Mom’s wisdom, but it seems to me that she would remind us we can’t change the past, but we can believe in the future.”

  Kate sat next to Charlie and took his hand. “We can trust in the love she gave us and share it with each other and our families.”

  “We can hold on to our memories,” I whispered, “to guide us through the hard times and to remember how much she loved us.”

  The three of us regarded each other with satisfaction. It seemed our wise mother had managed to instill us with the tools we would need to survive her absence—not just survive, but thrive. There was hope for us yet.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The blinding pain of the next contraction nearly knocked me on my ass. (Granted, it was pretty cushy at this point in time, but it still would have hurt.) I collapsed into the nearest booth and “breathed through it”—whatever that actually meant—before digging through my purse for my cell phone.

  The connection was instantaneous.

  “Come. Now.”

  This level of pain didn’t allow for the exchange of pleasantries.

  “I’m at home. Where are you?”

  Crap. I thought I would have time to make it home before he did.

  “I was just…running a quick errand.”

  Louis gasped before exclaiming, “You went to In-N-Out Burger? Again?”

  I flinched. “Are you tracking me?”

  “I kind of had to, given you’ve taken to getting lost lately.”

  I sighed with irritation. “It happened once.”

  “You were two streets away from our house, mon coeur.”

  “Minor details, Bluey.”

  “Details are never minor,” he insisted. “Every piece of information matters.”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I needed to calm down quickly. Having the urge to kill my husband couldn’t be good for the baby—especially when I imagined said baby would want to meet the poor man.

  “Are you okay, Syd?”

  “I’m fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll be home in five—”

  “I’m already on my way to get you.”

  “Louis! I’m not a child.”

  “No, but you’re about to give birth to one. We’re not taking any chances.”

  “Have it your way.”

  Click.

  Pressing the end button on my phone had never been so satisfying. (If he was going to treat me like a child, what was the harm in acting like one?)

  Ten minutes later, I was safely installed in Louis’ car, heading home.

  “How far apart are the contractions?”

  “Six, maybe seven minutes?” I panted.

  “Okay, so we should have time to run home and grab your bag—”

  “What about Luc?”

  “Maya’s picking him up.”

  I stared at him with trepidation. “Just Maya?”

  “Devon will be with her.”

  “Thank God.”

  The last time she had Luc alone she almost had one of his ears pierced. I had never seen Louis so livid. It took two full months of begging for him to agree to let her back in the house.

  After pulling into our driveway, Louis turned to me. “I’ll go grab your bag. Just sit here and relax.”

  He must have felt the full weight of my incredulous stare because he shifted uncomfortably in his seat before stammering, “Well, try to relax.”

  Before I could unleash a witty response, he bolted out of the car and ran toward the house.

  After he was safely inside, I closed my eyes and did my best to imagine my happy place. I was building sand castles with Luc in our favorite vacation spot—Fenwick Island, Delaware. The sun was shining, a cool breeze was blowing and the ocean was lapping lazily along the shore.

  I had been practicing my ability to visualize soothing imagery for a few weeks now, in a desperate attempt to get a handle on my raging hormones. I must have gotten really good because I honestly felt like I could feel the waves splashing over my feet…

  Dear God. This is not happening to me.

  My eyes snapped open just in time to see my husband sprinting back to the car. He threw my bag in the back seat, jumped into the driver’s seat and quickly fastened his seatbelt.

  “Ready, Syd?”

  I nodded.

  He backed out of the driveway while I gathered the courage to tell him what had just happened.

  Put on your big girl panties, Sydney. You are in need of a change…

  “Um, Bluey?”

  “Mmmm?” He glanced at me quickly before tearing down the street.

  “My water just broke.”

  Silence.

  “In the car.” For some reason I felt the need to state the obvious.

  Still nothing.

  “Are you okay, Louis?”

  His mouth kept trying to form words, but it seemed his brain couldn’t make the final connection.

  Before I had the chance to say anything further, another contraction took hold. I clutched the sides of the seat with both hands, holding on for dear life. Why in the hell did they have to hurt so much?

  Once it was over, I reached up to smooth my hair back only to find a fresh sheen of sweat had settled upon my forehead. I had no desire to imagine how frightening I looked at this very moment. At least my father wasn’t here to witness my humiliation. He would never have let me hear the end of it.

  I smacked my hand to my forehead. “What about Dad? Doesn’t his flight land soon?”

  Louis shook his head. “It already landed. Nick’s on the case. Don’t worry.”

  Ten minutes and two contractions later, Louis screeched to a halt in front of the emergency entrance to the hospital. An energetic nurse ran out with a wheelchair and a sympathetic expression. It seemed my husband had called ahead. (He had made a phone call during our ride—using the speakerphone, of course—but I was too delirious to focus on the identity of the other party.)

  I opened the car door and stared into the eyes of my savior.

  “Oh, honey!” she exclaimed. “Now don’t you worry, we’ll get you cleaned up in no time.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered as tears of humiliation streamed down my face.

  After she helped me into the wheelchair, she called something
quickly to Louis and we were off.

  “What’s your name, sweet thing?”

  I smiled faintly. I doubted there was anything sweet about me now. “Sydney.”

  She gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Pleased to meet you, Sydney. I’m Delilah.”

  “Pleased to meet you too,” I murmured, surprised at my ability to exercise good manners while in the throes of great pain. My mom would have been so proud.

  “Now Dr. Bauer is off today, but Dr. Katz will take excellent care of you.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “Does Dr. Katz give good drugs?”

  Delilah laughed heartily. “Dr. Katz? That man doesn’t skimp on anything.”

  I grinned without hesitation. “I think I’m going to like him.”

  I opened my bleary eyes to find Santa Claus sitting by my bedside. Delilah wasn’t kidding about Dr. Katz. He gave some powerful pain medication. I rubbed my eyes quickly, hoping to clear the hallucinations from my mind. When I opened them once more, not only was Santa Claus still there, he winked at me.

  “This kid made quite an entrance.”

  I stared at Santa Claus. Since when did he become a doula?

  “You okay, Duck? Do you want me to go find Louis? He took Luc to get some breakfast in the cafeteria.”

  How did he know my dad’s special name for me? Hmm. I guess one of the perks of his job was being omniscient.

  He put his hand over mine. “Sweetheart?”

  Dad.

  Suddenly reality came flooding back to me. Twelve hours of labor. My father arriving during the second hour and deciding he would be better suited to the waiting room. Kate and Delilah forming an instant bond and becoming my dream team. Louis cheering me on as I brought our nine-pound-five-ounce baby boy into this world. He had made quite an entrance indeed.

  I yawned widely before answering. “I’m fine, Dad. Just a little tired.”

  “I bet you are. Little Griffin is already at his fighting weight.”

  I shuddered, thinking nothing felt little about Griffin to me.

  “You know, Syd, you didn’t have to prove to me that you could do better than you did in my car all those years ago.”

  He wouldn’t.

  “I mean,” he continued, “I know you’re three times the age you were during your first incident, but poor Louis…”