I jerk my head up, start to smile, and then groan and drop my head again.
“Aw, you’re usually so happy to see me,” Begonia says.
I don’t have to look up to know she’s doing the uber-pregnant-lady waddle across the small lawn to reach me.
But no matter how happy I am to see her, my shoulders and jaw are tense as an overtightened spring. “How far behind you is my mother?”
“She doesn’t know where you are,” Hayes answers.
Shit.
They’rebothhere.
I blink in the morning light to make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.
No, they’re definitely both here.
My bright, happy, sunshiny sister-in-law is massively pregnant and glowing. Her white skin is clear of makeup, as always, and her hair hangs in bright pink waves at her shoulders.
She must’ve found pregnancy-safe hair dye.
Or Hayes did. He’d move heaven and earth to give her anything she wants, and I know he was looking for it.
And speaking of Hayes—my tall, crotchety older brother is beside his wife. Where Begonia’s in a colorful shapeless dress, Hayes is in his usual casual pants and a light blue button-down.
I don’t ask how they found me.
There’s not a person on any of our staffs that Begonia can’t charm information out of.
I also don’t ask how she got permission from her doctor to travel. She’s carrying twins and all I’ve heard for the past three months—ever since they shared the news at the beginning of hersecond trimester—isshe’ll go into labor early so we need to be careful about everything.
Hayes probably brought the doctor with them.
And I suddenly wonder what Emma looked like when she was pregnant.
Did she glow? Or did she get sick?
Did she love it? Did she hate it? Did she sing to him while he was growing inside her? What books did she read to him? Did she use special belly butter like Hayes says he’s been getting for Begonia?
The enormity of what I’ve missed slaps me in the face once more.
“I’m not leaving,” I inform them both.
“Maybe you can not leave but also not make a giant scene by getting arrested before you figure out how to make amends for what sounds like a pretty uncomfortable situation?” Begonia says. “We can’t keep your mom from those alerts she gets on your name in the news, even if we can keep her at bay for the time being by promising we’re taking care of you.”
Hayes doesn’t smirk, but the affectionate glance he shoots at his wife says he’s amused at her diplomatic way of putting things. Although, he’d agree even if she suggested we all needed to work out my problems by going deep into the forest and doing a rain dance naked under the trees.
Which I’m pretty sure was a joke the last time she told us she and her twin sister used to do that at summer camp as kids, but I’m never completely certain with her.
“This sucks,” I mutter.
The chicken closest to me in the fenced-in pen squawks in agreement.
Or possibly it’s sayingthis is your own fault, dumbass.
“It’ll suck a little less once you get breakfast and wash the shit off your face,” Hayes says.
Begonia grabs my arm and tugs. “C’mon, Mr.Oh, No, My World Has Had a Hiccup and That Never Happens. We have a lovely little house just outside of town that Hayes freakingboughtbecause he’s ridiculous. She’s not going anywhere, and even if she does, she’ll come back eventually.”
