I burst out laughing. “Doc is too.”
“We all go through some level of it,” Payton said. “And Sweet Pea’s accident has put us all on edge.”
“Yeah. I remember feeling like this after Dash’s crash as well.” I sighed. “I hate it.”
“We all do, love,” Maisie said.
“Mummy, you’re late,” Maisie’s daughter, Poppy, admonished as she walked over and hugged her mother, her belly twice the size of mine, so she must be close to delivering.
“I know, love, sorry. Where’s Devon?”
“Finding me pickles.”
“Let me guess, we ran out of Clausen and we only have Vlasic?”
“Yes. Baby wants what baby wants.” She rubbed her hands over her stomach, then pulled me in for a hug. “Sorry, Liv. I should have said hi first. I’m a basket case of rudeness right now.”
“Aw, honey, I get it. Growing a human’s hard work.”
She giggled. “Seriously. This child might kill me. Well, no, Devon. I’m catered to twenty-four, seven. He’s the one being run ragged.”
“As it should be,” Maisie said.
“Found them,” Devon grumbled, walking over to us, a jar of pickles in his hand. “It was in the outside fridge, and it’s the last one, so remind me to add it to the list for whoever goes shopping next.”
“Thanks, honey.” Poppy stood on tiptoes and kissed him, then turned to Maisie. “I’m going to chow down on a few of these, then I’ll come find you.”
“Okay, love,” Maisie said.
We walked outside and found Cassidy and Darien, Ace and Mack’s wives, respectively, setting food out on the picnic tables. “Can we help?” Maisie asked.
“No, we’re all set,” Cassidy said. “Ace and Knight are at the grill, but they’re not quite ready for us to grab the meat. Kim and Dani are getting the kids settled, so if you want to hit the bar, I’ll take a margarita.”
“You got it,” Maisie said.
“Oooh, Flea’s pouring,” Payton said. “I love it when he’s at the bar. He’s always generous with the alcohol.”
“I’m going to need to come back after the babies are born,” I said.
“Yes, you are,” Payton said as we walked over to the bar that had been set up outside. “Or we should all come out to Savannah.”
“Oh my god, that would be amazing,” I said. “Y’all are welcome anytime. Although, I have to admit, shopping with no sales tax was pretty amazing.”
“Right?” Payton said. “We usually drive over the bridge for our bigger purchases. Saves us a ton.”
Hawk and Payton lived in Vancouver, Washington, just over the Columbia River from Portland, as did Hatch and Maisie, but the girls took me into Portland to shop and it had been a blast.
“What’ll you have?” Flea asked, just as his wife, Grace, popped up from under the bar.
“Whatya doin’ down there?” Payton asked in a sing-song voice.
Grace laughed. “Not what he just dared me to do.”
“Chicken,” Flea said.
Grace held up a bottle of Patrón. “Figured you’d like the good stuff.”
“You figured correctly, precious girl,” Maisie said.
