Daisy and Vivi hang back, and when Ambrose approaches he pauses, smirking at Daisy in a friendly, familiar way. "My lady," he says, sweeping his arm to the side. Daisy grins, hopping off her seat and jumping into his arms.
"They have a running joke," Vivi explains, eyes on Daisy as she touches Ambrose's forearms, asking him questions. "Daisy says Ambrose is like the giant from The Princess Bride."
I squint my eyes and cock my head. "From the right angle, I can see it."
"But, like, one hundred times hotter," Vivi adds.
I turn a sharp glance at Vivi. "Um, what?"
"You have eyes," she sasses. "Use them."
Playfully, I cross my arms in front of my chest. "I only have eyes for your brother."
"Perfect answer," she murmurs, gaze staying on Ambrose.
Daisy steps back and Ambrose looks to the table, at me and Vivi. The only two people who haven't greeted him yet.
He extends a hand my way. "Mallory, it's nice to officially meet you. Congrats on Simone."
My hand is swallowed up by his. "It's nice to meet you in person, finally. Thank you for agreeing to be Simone's godparent."
He glances at Vivi. "Me and Vivi, godparents."
"We'll teach her all we know," Vivi jokes.
"This should be good," Ambrose adds, the corner of his lips turned up when he trains his eyes on Vivi.
Vivi finally slips from her seat. "Come here, you big lug. What do you think you're doing, making me wait to say hello to you?" She steps into Ambrose's embrace, dwarfed by his size.
"Saved the best for last," he says, fumbling for an appropriate place to set his big, meaty hands on Vivi's body.
Their reunion feels different than everyone else's. It's hard to describe, but the wordtendercomes to mind. Makes me think of the way Hugo said Ambrose was like a brother to him, and therefore a brother to Vivi.
I'm not so sure about that.
Ambrose melts into the dynamics of the group. With him present, Vivi doesn't have to feel like a third wheel. They chatter, and I listen. Just like I prefer to do.
Hugo brings me another margarita. I've been preparing for this night, pumping breast milk so Simone has plenty to eat while I wait for the alcohol to leave my system. He stands beside me, rubs circles on my back. Places a kiss on my forehead and whispers, "I can't wait to get you home."
We've only been cleared for sex for a couple weeks, and it's been slow going. We're enjoying each other, the process, the forced slower pace as my body adjusts following birth. Hugo is patient, and I never feel like he wishes for more, or different. He meets me where I am, always.
Soon, Simone will legally be Hugo's. But our family is already a happy one.
Ambrose is answering question after question aboutthe NFL, and his knee surgery. "Dr. Cordova—the doctor who did my surgery—isn't confident I'll ever play the same. He's seeing evidence of arthritis." Ambrose says it like he's reading off a grocery list, but his eyes sweep to the beer in his hands. I'm betting he has a lot of complicated feelings on the matter.
I finish my drink, and Hugo announces we're taking off. "Simone will be up approximately three hours after I fall asleep," he says, but he's not complaining. Honestly, he sounds giddy.
"Get out of here, Mom and Dad," Duke jokes. "Tell my sister I said congratulations the next time you talk to her."
"You could call Cecily yourself," I say gently. There are some odd family dynamics there I don't understand.
"Nah. She's doing her best to forget Olive Township exists. I won't interrupt that."
Duke's well-wishes for Cecily are regarding her contribution to the recent success ofCase Files. Without her, we wouldn't have been able to wrangle the content and package it in bite-sized, interesting pieces.
Liane was recently moved to the state prison, where she will serve a life sentence for the murders of my sister, Simon, and the red-haired man we learned was named Brigham McNealy. His body had been discovered at the bottom of a canyon not too far from Olive Township only eight years ago. Mayor Rooney is currently in jail as he awaits trial for money laundering, fraud, and tax evasion.
As for the photos of me sleeping, Braxton the night manager may have deleted the footage from the securitycameras that night, but he got blackout drunk at a local sports bar and confessed his perversion. By his own admission, he has a thing for the pregnant form. The pictures the police found on his phone confirmed it, and he's currently sitting in jail, waiting to have the book thrown at him. It's probably better than what would've happened to him had Penn and Hugo found him first, but I wouldn't mind Braxton getting a helping of prairie justice. I felt violated all over again when I found out, but I've done my best to move on. Putting any more emotional energy into it only prolongs the situation.
