I kick his boot under the table. He glares at me, but his ears are red.
Gotcha, little brother.
I glance over at my sexy wife, admiring her pretty features, how her freckles dust her cute, button nose.
Amelia slides her hand over my thigh. “You’re staring again,” she whispers.
I lean down, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, baby. But only at you.”
Amelia’s laughter softens over time, her head resting against my shoulder. She appears flushed, with her eyeliner smudged at the corner from wiping her eyes earlier. At first, I think she’s just drunk, but she didn’t drink anything tonight, and then I notice her hand press lightly to her stomach, subtle, as if she doesn’t want anyone to see.
My chest tightens.
I lean in, lowering my voice. “Baby, you okay?”
She nods too quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
But her lips are pale, and she swallows like she’s fighting something back.
Catalina’s sharp eyes sweep across the table. She locks onto Amelia, narrowing her gaze like a hawk. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” Amelia says quickly, sitting straighter.
Catalina smirks. “Liar.” And then, with a flourish that makes me want to groan, she digs into her massive tote bag, shuffling through God knows what until she pulls out?—
A pregnancy test.
“Catalina—” Amelia hisses, her cheeks flaming.
“What? Don’t act shocked. I carry everything—gum, safety pins, mace, lip gloss, pregnancy tests," Catalina shrugs, setting it on the table. “Sue me for being prepared.”
The table goes silent, then Carter mutters under his breath, “Darlin’,” dragging a hand down his face.
Amelia covers her face with her hands. “You are so lucky I love you, bitch.”
My heart is pounding, my hand already covering hers. “Baby,” I say softly, squeezing her fingers. “I’ll go with you.”
She peeks at me between her fingers, eyes wide.
“Right now,” I add, already pushing my chair back. “If you’re not feeling good, we’ll figure it out together. You don’t do this alone.”
Catalina beams, clapping her hands, already babbling about being an auntie. Carter mutters something about this family’s never-ending chaos. Reed looks like he wants to sink into the floor, and Layla is practically vibrating with suppressed excitement.
I press a kiss to her temple, whispering against her hair, “C’mon, dollface. Let’s go.”
And I don’t care if it’s Carter’s birthday or if the entire damn bar is watching—I’m not letting her face this alone.
The noise of Boots & Bourbon fades the moment we slip down the hallway. Amelia’s hand is tight in mine, her steps quick, as if she’s trying to outrun the stares and Catalina’s smirk. My chest aches just watching her—flushed, anxious, biting her lip raw.
When we reach the single-stall bathroom, I push the door open for her, letting her go in first. I follow, shutting it behind me, and turn the lock with a decisive click.
She leans back against the sink, arms crossed, eyes cast downward. Her oversized T-shirt hangs loosely around her frame, and I notice her hands trembling where they grip the fabric.
I step closer, placing one hand on the counter beside her hip and the other on her lower back. “Hey.” My voice is calm and steady, even though my pulse is racing. “Look at me, dollface.”
She slowly lifts her eyes, lashes clumped from the humidity, liner smudged like smoke. Vulnerable in a way Amelia rarely shows anyone.
“You don’t have to be scared,” I murmur, as I brush my thumb over her hip. “Whatever it says, we’ll figure it out together.”
