I, on the other hand, want my woman safe. I want the best for her.
So, I talked to a mason and figured out what stones to use and it’s now a cemented flagstone walkway.
“Looks good, man.”
I smile at Travis, who’s now got a whole lot of skin in the game. “Sure does.” I nod. “Thanks for helping out.”
“Wasn’t nothing.”
It was, but I don’t mention that.
I look up at where Ricky and Frank are putting up the porch swing—reinforced for my weight, plus pregnant Kit’s.
Because she is carrying my child.
Our baby.
Fuck me. My heart. Mylungs.
Every time I think about it, they go haywire. I can’t breathe. Can’t even see right when the edges of my vision get dark.
“Come on, guys. Let’s go grill.”
We walk around back, Ricky and Frank trailing after us. The whole Parlor crew’s here, plus Yemi’s sister and whoever the hell else people wanted to bring. Riley brought a literal pig from his farm a couple days ago, so we’ve got that roasting in a pit. Annette—the vegan—isn’t happy, but she never seems to be happy unless Frida’s got her wrapped in her arms.
Which I fully understand.
Ricky’s other half, Dolores, comes over and slots a lemonade into my hand, and Kit’s right beside her, giving one to Travis.
You can’t tell there’s a baby in her belly yet, but already that little person’s changed parts of me you can’t see.
“You good?” I ask as she comes over to slide under my arm and let me pull her into my side and kiss her forehead, her cheek, her lemonade-chilled lips. Every kiss is a thing between us, never taken for granted.
“Yeah. Yeah, you?”
“I’m fucking amazing, baby.”
She grins. “Should we tell ’em yet?”
“What, that the random pig roast isn’t just a pig roast?”
“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, come on. Let’s do it. You guys! Hey!”
“Hold on. Hold on, baby.” I lift my head. “Trav, get over here, man. We need you with us.”
The kid walks over, head down, shoulders curved forward. He’s taller than anyone else here and he’s only fourteen at this point. Doctor’s got no idea how big he’ll end up being, but I keepsaying to Kit it’s a damn good thing she’s got a restaurant, or else our foster kid would eat us out of house and home. As it stands, he’s making a decent dent in the restaurant.
“We got an announcement,” Travis says to the folks who’ve come over today. Frank and Ricky and Dolores and Frida and everybody from the restaurant.
This is my family. My people. This is the life I’m lucky enough to have found.
Travis looks at us with a grin, his face bright red. “They’re having a baby,” he tells the group.
Ricky whoops and takes off his baseball cap, throwing it high.
Dolores giggles as she runs over to hug first Kit and then me. The woman’s a giggler. Five feet nothing, with bright dyed red hair and lots and lots of makeup, high heels and leopard print everything. And she giggles. Constantly. It’s cute, though honestly, I don’t know how Ricky stands it.
Slowly, Frank makes his way down the porch stairs to me. He sticks out his hand and I shake it.
