“Not a chance. If I die of too much lovin’, I’m takin’ you with me.”
She laughs, making me want more but my phone starts ringing downstairs. With a wink, I show off a little by swinging over the banister and landing in a crouch.
“What’s up?” I answer the cell and wave up at wide-eyed Sam.
While I like the space saving nature of the spiral staircase, we need a fireman’s pole for quick getaways.
Andy sounds a mite more upset than when I dropped him off earlier. He doesn’t even bother with pleasantries, such as hello. “A friend in the DA’s office says they got something more on Sienna but won’t say what.”
“What do you need?” I mimic his brusque manner and rapid-fire my response.
“Find anything you can about my wife’s relationship with Cal, even if it’s something I don’t want to know.”
Hell, after all the times Andy’s had my six, I’d walk over hot coals for him. However, I’m not sure I could tell him his wife was stepping out. “Don’t worry none. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks.” The moment my friend hangs up, I need to get a move on. First, I need to use the shitter.
Done with business, I glance in the mirror, blow my nose, and when I throw away my tissue, stop cold.
Holy fuck, is that what I think it is?Having only seen them in movies, I pull out the plastic stick, hoping it’s a thermometer but no such luck. There’s a little window on the tongue depressor sized object. It readspregnant.
I’m a dad?
Air rushes out of my lungs and I grin. Well hell, a baby. Why didn’t she say anything and if she didn’t want me to know, why throw the damn stick where I would see it? Maybe, she wants to surprise me. Wait. What do I do? Holy fuck. A kid.
As God is my witness, I will never understand women. We need a nursery. I need more money. She needs to quit being a detective. Now, what am I supposed to do?
“Was that Andy?” The mother of my baby calls down the stairs as I try to pull my act together and crack open the bathroom door.
“Yeah. He thinks the DA found evidence and wants Suds and Sam to look into it.” Slowly, I make my way up the spiral staircase, freaking the fuck out and she lies there like everything is same old same old.
I don’t get it. Don’t I see her take a pill every morning with her coffee? How can she be pregnant?
Maybe if I broach the subject, I can get her talking. “Sugar, you ever think of having kids?”
“Ah, sure… but not yet. Why?” Damn, she is a talented liar. I don’t even see a hint of deception in those big brown eyes.
“No reason.”
Fuck. So that’s how it’s going to be. I guess I need to shut my big southern mouth until she wants to share.
“Do you ever think of moving up our wedding date?” I kneel down on the futon and hand her a warm, damp washcloth.
“Not really. Why? What’s going on?” As if nothing huge is about to change our lives, she washes between her legs, and searches the bedding for her lost clothes.
Maybe, she needs some reassurance I won’t freak the fuck out. “I dunno. I was doing some Catholic homework shit and it says we need to talk about children. I want an even dozen.”
She snaps my briefs as I put them on and when I turn to retaliate, she kisses me. “You plan on carrying them all?”
“Well, not all of them… Maybe half.” Imagining her ripe with child, I pull her close and despite the fact she’s got a secret she’s not telling, I have to grin.
“Twelve seems scary. There’s tuition, and diapers, and bears, oh my!” Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz sing-songs the phrase and stops a few steps down the spiral stairs.
“You’ll be a really good mommy.” I tweak her nose as she wraps her arms around me.
“Okay, but can it wait until after we solve Calvin’s murder?”
“Yeah, sure thing, sugar. Sure thing.”
