But it was all for the good of the future. If my mother is anything, she’s a big picture kind of a girl. And now our baby princess is on her way.
I’ll never forget her eyes, how they held every color, the brightest blue, the lightest blue, the deepest amber. Her infectious laugh and smile. I cannot wait for Barron and Nathan to bond with her and shower her with as much love as Logan and I already are.
Logan is no doubt her most ardent fan. He reads to her, whispers secrets to her, and lets her know how beautiful and special she is. He’s even mentioned the fact he’s envious of all the time I get to spend with her before the birth.
There’s no question we are both counting down the days to hold our sweet angel. Fall couldn’t arrive soon enough. Bring on the pumpkin spiced everything.
The best part is, she’ll be here for our wedding. Logan and I will become husband and wife with our children looking on—or sleeping on, but nevertheless, she will be included in every single wedding photo. Perhaps not the ideal scenario, but Logan and I gave up on ideal less than a month after we met.
Emily ushers us over to the cake unveiling. She’s a baker at heart and baking the cake for the event was something she insisted upon. There’s been a big tent around the cake table ever since we’ve arrived and yes, the men folk have willingly migrated over at the promise of empty calories.
Em takes the tent from one end and my mother does the same from the other end.
“There’s a cake for each of you,” Em grunts. “The one on the far left is Laken’s, the one in the middle is Skyla’s, and the one on the right is Chloe’s.” She looks right at me. “You might say I had a little supernatural inspiration when it came to deciding who got what.”
My muscles tense at the thought of Emily hinting at our future—our vaginal future through flour and sugar.
The veil is lifted and the crowd breaks out into laughs and cheers.
Laken’s cake is a sculpture of a woman lying on her back, hiked on her elbows as she looks to a clear bulbous belly with a baby waving up at her. Adorable and yet quirky. And, oddly, Emily nailed Laken right down to her wild caramel hair.
My cake. I’m not even sure how to process this. It’s basically a peach bottom with dark sprinkles around a faux vaginal opening and a doll face smiling at us from inside. The wordsurprise! is written over my thigh. So adorably gross.
Chloe’s cake looks more like an Easter egg with a baby doll sticking out from the middle of it. There’s a creepy air about it, and a part of me wants to free the poor thing.
“Okay”—Bree rubs her hands together—“I think I got this. Laken, your baby is really in tune to you. So, I’m betting it’s going to be super smart.”
That’s not shocking. Wes is an evil genius. I take a closer look at the baby floating in Laken’s faux clear tummy in search of a tail, but there is none. Lucky for Laken.
Brielle holds up a finger. “Skyla, don’t count on your due date. If I were you, I’d be prepared to have the sweet pea any day now.”
Mom screams with delight. “Today, today!” she cheers the premature birth on.
Logan wraps his arms around me from behind. “Let’s not do that today,” he whispers. “And is it wrong of me not wanting to share your sweet ass with everyone at the party?”
I can’t help but laugh at that one and Gage shoots us a look.
Bree leans in closer to Chloe’s cake. “Huh. You know. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was a fake baby.” She pats Chloe’s stomach. “You sure you have a baby in there?”
Chloe swats Bree away as if she were an annoying bee, and the crowd laughs as Mia and Melissa dole out the sweet treats.
“Thank you, Em,” I say, indulging in a bite of my delicious Bavarian crème filled cake. “This is my favorite. And that was very nice of you not to reveal the genders of the other two babies.”
“I’m a firm believer in waiting until you take a look at the junk in the trunk before blabbing it off to the world. And no worries. You and Logan will have more kids.”
She takes off and Logan lets out a howl. “Bring on the babies.” He lands an enthusiastic kiss to my lips just as Chloe and Gage come upon us.
“Sorry to break up the party,” Chloe coos, because she is obviously so not sorry. The only thing she’s sorry about is the fact Gage doesn’t seem to offer her a spontaneous show of affection.
His arm snakes around her waist as if he heard me.
Chloe holds a pale box out my way. It’s slender, about six inches long, and I know the jeweler it’s from just by the shade of Tiffany blue on the front.
“Gage and I thought it would be nice to give you a gift as well, Skyla. And don’t worry. We don’t expect a gift in return. The gift of your friendship is more than enough.”
She hands me the box, and it feels slippery in my hands like a snake doused in oil.
Both Logan and Gage tense up. Ten bucks says Gage had very little to do with this, but then again, this is the new Gage we’re talking about. It was most likely all his idea.
