“I’ve already told you that it doesn’t have to be an actual name to be a name.” Jen rolled her eyes as she breathed through the turbulent emotions. “Celebrities give their children stupid names that aren’t real names all the time. Like Orange or Siri or Alpha-Exa-12-BR9er-something or other. And I can call you anything I want because it brings me joy and annoys the hell out of your mother.”
Sally shook her head. “None of that is accurate.”
“Hell!” Thia shouted and tossed another head.
Jen sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose “Decebel is going to flip his lid.”
“You already said that,” Crina pointed out.
“It bears repeating.”
“Can I be there when you tell him?” Bethany sat down in one of the rocking chairs and laid Hope across her thighs. Bethany held the girl’s tiny fists in her hands and wiggled them back and forth, again babbling at her in baby talk.
“No, you may not.” And just like that, the bitch inside Jen rose to the surface like a pissed-off draheim ready to fry anyone in her path. What the hell was wrong with her? It was a dumb question. She knew what was wrong, but she wanted to move past the emotions that plagued her like a rash that wouldn’t go away. She wanted to be done with the mourning that held her prisoner to the ebb and flow of her feelings. “Don’t you have more important things to do? Like maybe put a boob in that kid’s mouth and give it some nourishment. And while you’re at it, quit with the annoying baby talk. If you keep talking to her like that, she’ll never learn English. Or she’ll wind up sounding like a cartoon duck.”
Bethany stuck her chin in the air. “At least she will know how to say another word besides hell.”
Jen was pretty sure that her head might just spin around like one of those demons in a horror movie if she let her anger grow anymore. She had to get her shit locked down. “She also says ‘Mama’ and ‘Dada,’ and soon she will learn ‘Bite me, Aunt Bethany.’”
Sally sucked in a breath. “Bethany… I know you’re feeling good about yourself after bringing this wonderful little bundle of joy into the world. And I think it’s great that you’re not shaking in your boots in the face of this blonde-headed psychopath. But let me tell you from experience, poking the resident crazy she-wolf isn’t necessarily a brave thing to do—”
“Suicidal,” Crina cut in. “It’s a suicidal thing to do.”
“How about we all just take a deep breath?” Rachel’s calm, even voice helped Jen leash her wolf.
Jen looked at Bethany. “I apologize that I’m being more hostile than usual.” She shifted from foot to foot. Her stomach seemed to be perpetually twisted into a knot. It’d been that way since— Nope, not going there. Can’t go there, not if I’m going to pull it together. “I’m just…”
Bethany’s eyes softened, and her lips turned up in a small smile. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, Jen. You’ll get through this. And no amount of bitchiness is going to push any of us away.”
Jen heard the door to the nursery open but didn’t turn to see who’d entered.
“I just heard bitchiness and Jen’s name used in the same paragraph.” Jacque’s voice filled the quiet that had settled after Bethany spoke. “Sounds like everything in here is par for the course.”
“If you consider Thia dismembering dolls as par for the course,” Sally snapped her fingers, “then yes. Everything here is perfectly normal.”
Jen cut her eyes over to Sally. “Snitch,” she muttered. Her brunette friend appeared completely engrossed in the book Titus was reading, but Jen didn’t miss the smirk on Sally’s face.
Jacque walked farther into the room. Jen saw Jacque glance over at one of the cribs at Slate snoozing away, oblivious to the drama unfolding. Jen thought the dude was seriously missing out. Even at his young age, Jen had noticed the way he watched everyone. There was a keen intelligence in his eyes that reminded her of Vasile. Slate, no doubt, would have found the current exchange quite interesting.
Their alpha female stepped up beside Jen and leaned forward to see over the couch. Rachel sat with Thia, helping her organize the limbs. And using the limbs to teach Thia the alphabet.
“Bloody hell,” Jen muttered at the same time Thia said, “L. L is for leg.”
Jacque laughed but tried to cover it as a cough when Jen shot her a glare. “What?” Jacque held her hands up in a placating gesture. “You can’t deny that”—she pointed at Thia and Rachel—“is freaking hilarious.”
“It’s a bloody riot.” Jen walked around the couch and took a seat next to the healer, who picked up another leg.
“Foot.” Rachel pointed at the appendage. “F is for foot.”
Jen sighed and then reached behind her until her hand wrapped around fake strands of hair. She plucked the doll head up and then brought it around to hold in front of Thia. “Head.” She looked her daughter in the eyes. “H is for head.”
When Jacque sat down beside her and eyeballed her, Jen rolled her eyes. “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”
“Thia,” Titus said loud enough that they could hear him over the couch, “what is T for?”
Thia grinned, snatched the leg from Rachel, and patted her little hand at the end of the foot. “Toes!” She beamed up at Jen.
“She’s a smart one, Aunt Jen,” Titus told her. “Anything I tell her, she remembers.” He paused and then said, “Thia, who is Momma?”
