“Excuse me for wanting to celebrate my husband,” I shot back, signing the invoice the caterer slid into my hands. My name looks good on official paperwork now. Wife things.
Jo rolled her eyes dramatically. “I ain’t mad at you. I need an excuse to bust a move on the dance floor anyway.”
She immediately hopped into the electric slide like the music was blasting in her head.
I laughed. “Girl, you don’t need a dance floor or music; never have.”
“Whatever.” She kept sliding, hands up, hips moving. “Don’t act like you ain’t enjoy the show last time I hit that routine in your kitchen.”
I shook my head, smiling as the memory flashed across my mind the countless times I’d walked in on her dancing in random places. In the living room while folding laundry. In the kitchen with a spatula as a mic. In the bathroom with one lash dangling because she never finished getting dressed on time.
Jo has been sunlight lately; she’d been glowing happier than I’d seen her in years. It made me love her even more.
I nudged her shoulder as she finished her solo routine. “You know, with all this energy, we might need to hire you as entertainment tonight.”
She flipped her hair. “Girl, please. I will perform for free. Just give me a plate.”
Her laugh was contagious, bouncing off the walls of the venue. And as I looked around at the decorations, the lights, the soft golds and deep blacks Seth loved my heart warmed. Tonight wasn’t just a party. It was the start of a new chapter for us for real this time. And I was damn determined to celebrate my husband properly.
“Would you like to try the signature drink for tonight?” the bartender asked, sliding a tall glass with a glittery gold rim across the counter toward me.
“No, thank you,” I replied.
She blinked, then turned to Jo. “What about you, ma’am?”
Jo shook her head proudly. “I’m in recovery, sweetheart, so I don’t drink but I am tryin’ to figure out why my daughter here ain’t.” She turned that mother stare on me.
“It’s too early. And I still have a million things to do today.” I avoided her eyes, pretending to check the table arrangements.
“Stormi Knight Greene,” she called out, using my whole government, “you’re my daughter. Holding liquor ain’t never been your problem.”
I tried to walk off, get distance maybe hide but Jo was glued to my shadow.
“Them late nights with your husband got another one on the way?” she questioned, squinting at me like a nosy best friend instead of my mother.
I threw my head back. “I don’t know. I haven’t taken a test yet.”
I stepped faster, hoping she’d drop it. Of course she didn’t.
“Oh, you know,” she said, smiling wide. “And don’t you dare act like you did last time.” She rolled her eyes so hard I heard it.
“No, no, I’m way past that,” I protested quickly. “We just—we agreed on a year or two before the next baby.”
Jo stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. “Baby, if that man wanted to wait a year or two, his pull-out game would be Olympic level by now. But he doesn’t mind fillin’ you up with babies.”
I covered my face, embarrassed and blushing. “Jo…”
“What?” she laughed. “I’m just sayin’. Y’all don’t look like a couple who waitin’ on nothin’ but the sun to set.”
“I just wanna be sure before I tell him,” I muttered.
Jo’s eyes softened. Her teasing melted into that motherly love. “Well, lucky for you I got a test. You can take it now.”
Before I could even ask, she was already digging in that big, overstuffed purse she treated like a survival kit.
“Jo, why do you” I stopped mid-sentence. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t even wanna know.”
She pulled out a pregnancy test still in the box like it was a pack of gum. “Baby, not me. The girls at the recovery homes still be out here fuckin’. I just keep extras on hand; look out for ’em from time to time.”
