She glares disapprovingly at Harper. “Stop spending time with Aunt Kam. Her attitude is rubbing off on you.”
Harper smiles. “She taught me a new phrase yesterday. Beef Walk.”
I start laughing, knowing what it means, but Fallon obviously doesn’t. “What’s that?” she asks.
Harper giggles. “Going away from people to fart so they don’t hear or smell it. She said if she has milk chocolate, she has to Beef Walk every time.”
Fallon sighs. “God help me, Aunt Kam is going to be the death of me. Harper, why don’t you go do your homework so Kennedy and I can talk?”
“Already done,” she proudly announces.
“Then please go and read for a bit.”
“Okay, Mommy.” She turns to me. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“I won’t,” I assure her.
Harper exits the kitchen. It sounds like she walks upstairs. I look at Fallon. “It’s cool that she’s willing to read. I would never have agreed to that at her age. I would have gone right to the television.”
Fallon nods. “Me too. She’s only allowed a certain amount of time in front of the television on a school day. She’d rather use itup later forThe Real Housewives of Beverly Hillstonight. It’s our embarrassing guilty pleasure.”
I let out a laugh. “I get it. Those bitches are nuts, but I can’t look away either. Their crazy drama is like crack.”
“Agreed.”
I notice her pickleball racquet on the counter and motion toward it. “Do you play?”
She shrugs. “I recently started. I’m not very good just yet. It’s hard at my age to find ways to be competitive. I’m liking it a lot though. I think I’m already addicted.”
“We should play sometime,” I offer. “I’m pretty good. I play with my dad now and then. In fact, I’m playing with him and my brother tomorrow.”
She grins widely. “That’s wonderful. Happy to hear it.”
I’m honestly not sure why she cares so much. Weird.
She stares at me. “I’m guessing this is a big conversation.” I nod. “Would you like some hot chocolate? I have lots of marshmallows,” she excitedly offers.
“Sure. That would be nice.” I narrow my eyes. “How did you know that I like extra marshmallows in my hot chocolate?”
As she begins making it, she shrugs as she says, “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I suppose.”
It was one of the few positive young childhood memories I have of my dad. He’d always sneak extra marshmallows into my hot chocolate when my mom wasn’t looking. It kind of became a running joke between us until I was slightly older and stopped drinking it as often.
Minutes later, she’s handing me a warm mug with a few too many marshmallows. I take my first sip as we sit at her kitchen table. It’s soothing. It’s like she knows just what I need. It’s that maternal instinct I fear I’ll never have.
My eyes meet hers. “I confirmed it. I’m pregnant.”
She nods in understanding. “How do you feel about it?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “The father is over the moon. He’s so fucking happy. I can’t get over how damn excited he is about it.”
She smiles. “That’s good news, isn’t it? Anyone I know?”
“Obviously it stays between you and me for now, but it’s Daylen Humblecut.”
Her eyebrows practically shoot into her hairline. “The football player?”
