“All my time stalking you in the lab has finally paid off,” I tease.
Coop bumps a dry laugh because he and Logan have been right there with me.
“And don’t forget”—he starts—“the ultimate key, the holy grail indeed, is the hope that the stem cells of that child you’re carrying will provide the immortalized cell line we so desperately need.”
“It will.” I place my hand over my belly and she offers up a gentle kick as if agreeing.
Nev takes ahold of the list and his lips twist as he examines the names one by one. “So, it’s decided?”
I take a breath. “It is decided. Long live the Retribution League. Long live Celestra and our people.”
“Hear, hear,” they all say in unison, and just like that, David is ready to take on Goliath.
Laken has gone all out for Tobie’s birthday party. Usually it’s Demetri who hands the party-planning reins to my mother, but on this, Tobie’s third birthday, Wes and Laken have chosen to go it alone. And I do mean alone.
Chloe, Tobie’s birth monster, has merely shown up as a guest. And believe you me, I was reconsidering my own attendance, but Tobie asked me as if she was leaving preschool yesterday if I wouldpleases comes to her parties. I couldn’t refuse an invitation like that. Besides, Laken sent me a formal invite weeks ago. And, of course, the boys wouldn’t miss it, and apparently, neither could every toddler on the island.
Wesley and Laken’s park-like backyard is a virtual playground for the tiny tots of Paragon. There are six different bounce houses gyrating to the rhythm of happy screams and children’s music blaring at ungodly decibels. There’s an actual midway installed, complete with games and prizes. There are more cotton candy, churros, and ice cream installations than I can count, and there’s a giant pink cake large enough for the birthday princess herself to pop out of.
Since it’s Halloween, there’s a severe pumpkin theme. Laken has opted to have nothing even remotely scary. Instead, she’s opted for a harvest motif. Of course, every child and half the adults present are in costume, the boys included. What would a party be without a couple of headless dinosaurs? Nathan and Barron have donned their suits, but when it came time for their hooded masks, they refused the offer.
Tobie runs up just as Logan heads off to get me a water bottle out of the cooler.
“Mama Kyla!” She tugs at my dress, and I melt as she doles out the moniker. She’s been calling me that less and less these days, but it sure feels good to hear it. Who would have thought I’d be so enamored with Chloe’s daughter? But the other daughter? Not so much. “It’s mybirfday!” Her dark wavy hair is expertly combed back into a glossy ponytail with such a mirror shine to it I can see my reflection. There’s a crooked tiara pressed over the top of her head, and she’s wearing a pastel rainbow tutu that’s as big and fluffy as a cloud—if that cloud were as big as the island. She hardly fits into the opening of those bounce houses Wesley has paid for. I witnessed her struggle to squeeze out of one, and it looked as if the bounce house was giving birth.
“That’s right,” I say. “You’re the prettiest, sweetest birthday princess at the party!”
“I know.” She nods up at me in earnest. “Natey and Barron are going—are going to mawy me today. I going to mawy two dinosaurs.”
“Oh, wow. That will be very exciting.”
She runs off, and as much as I want to laugh off her delusions, a part of me shudders instead. Yes, I’ve teased that I want that very thing to happen—Tobie and one of my sons, but it was in jest. The reality would be much more jarring. Although, I would much rather that scenario play out one day than Chloe marrying my husband.
A dark realization sets in.
My husband actually left me for Chloe Bishop. And to top it all off, he had the nerve to procreate with her.
I spot the dastardly duo laughing it up across the yard with Emily and Bree and suddenly feel the need to kill or maim.
“Easy,” Logan says as he comes up with my drink. He’s donned his old football jersey from West and so has Gage. It’s a heartbreaking scene to witness, all things considering. That framed picture I have of the two of them on the field of West Paragon High comes to mind. Me in my cheer uniform standing on Gage’s helmet to make up the height difference while Logan and Gage flank me on either side. It feels like just yesterday. We were so content in our little holy huddle. We thought we were impervious to destruction—at least amongst the three of us. And here we are today. At war. In hell. Done for in so many ways.
I lean against my favorite Oliver. “Would it be wrong of me to say I have an intense craving for a birthday massacre?”
“In light of all the party massacres we’ve had on Paragon, I’m going to go with yes.” His lips twist in a warm smile, and the memory of our heated afternoon sweeps through my mind. Logan and I have made it a practice that once we drop the boys off at preschool, we head back to Whitehorse for a little late morning snack, of each other. Logan is a master in the bedroom. He can play my body like a well-tuned fiddle—okay, so perhaps a severely out of tune and bloated fiddle, but nonetheless.
His lids are hooded, his smile slowly fading as he gets that look on his face that signals to my girl parts that it’s time to unleash the floodgates.
“Logan”—Wes calls from the house—“help me put together the bike I got Tobie. I can’t figure out the seat from the handlebars.”
Logan shoots him a look before landing a kiss to my nose. “And he’s the brains of the Barricade. I think we’ve got this in the bag. Find a seat and take a load off those feet.”
“Did you just call me a load? If so, you’re definitely not the brains of the Retribution League,” I tease.
He winces as he heads on in.
Laken comes over looking impossibly thin in her tight blue jeans, black sweater with a sequin jack-o-lantern over the front, and a purple witch’s hat pressed over her head.
“Hey, girl!” She hooks an arm around my neck as she attempts to hug me over my gigantic belly.
