“It’s a boy!” Bryce announces proudly, shoving his hands in his pockets and puffing out his chest.
I can’t keep the grin off my face. Last time I saw Bryce and his girlfriend, Emme, was at Thanksgiving last year, where they were traumatizing Skyler with very detailed descriptions of their reproduction efforts.
“Wow, that’s awesome! Congrats, man,” I tell him, slapping him on the shoulder.
“Hewantsit to be a boy,” Emme corrects, her face a mask of long-suffering affection as she gazes at Bryce. I have a feeling that’s what our friends must see whenever I’m attempting to rein Skyler in during one of his more…fanciful moments. “The test was inconclusive, so we don’t know anything yet.”
“I’m just going with the odds, babe,” Bryce says with a shrug. “Odds say boy.”
Emme puts her fingers to her temples and closes her eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. “Thank god you’re not a gambler.”
I can’t help the sputtering laugh that escapes my lips. These two are going to make interesting parents, that’s for sure.
I’m distracted with my conversation, so I don’t sense anyone approaching me until I feel a hand sliding over my head, causing me to flinch in surprise. Snapping my head around, I see Sully with his hand outstretched.
His expression is part apologetic, part amused. “Sorry. Just curious.” Turning to Deacon, who’s standing to Emme’s left, he asks, “Can I change my answer? I’m kind of liking the hair.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but it can’t be that important because Deacon just rolls his eyes.
“Ooh, yeah, I like it too,” Emme gushes. “Are you growing it out? I think that’d look great. I can style it for you, if you’d like—maybe keep it buzzed on the sides but longer on top. That’d really suit you.”
I run my hand over my head, feeling a little self-conscious as Emme tilts her head back and forth, scrutinizing me with her hair-stylist’s gaze. “Uh…no, I’m not growing it. It’s just a bit longer right now because Skyler didn’t have a chance to shave it last week.”
Emme’s face falls. “Oh.”
“You couldn’t just do it yourself?” Drew asks. “Or go to a barber? Aren’t there like five on your block?”
“I like it when Skyler does it.”
***
“Stop staring at me, cat,” I grumble, giving Rocket the side-eye as he perches on the arm of the sofa, his demon eyes fixed on me as though he’s trying to read my thoughts. I shift my attention back to the TV but find it difficult to concentrate on what’s going on. I can’t help but feel self-conscious under that penetrating stare, which is absolutely ridiculous—it’s a cat for fuck’s sake. “Jesus, what the fuck do you want?” I demand, losing patience.
I should probably just go to bed and let the damn cat have the run of the apartment. It’s almost one in the morning and I’m pretty beat. But I’ve been in bed before Skyler got home every night this week and I’m kind of over it.
The apartment door opens, and Rocket finally gives up his study of me, bounding from the sofa and prancing across the living room to greet Skyler with a figure eight around his legs. And, honestly, I can’t blame the little guy for his jubilant reaction because if I were that spry I’d do the exact same thing.
“Everything okay?” Skylar asks, one brow raised in curiosity.
I grin at him. “It’s great now. Although that cat’s fucking weird,” I add in a grumble.
He lets out a soft laugh. “You think all cats are weird.”
“He’s always staring at me. It’s creepy.”
“Well, you are kind of interesting to look at, Jax.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say dryly.
Skyler just grins and strides over to join me on the sofa, stretching his long body out and resting his head in my lap. Unsurprisingly, Rocket jumps up into Skyler’s lap, curling up with a soft purr. I send the cat a narrow-eyed look. I don’t particularly like having to share my Skyler cuddles, but at least the demon creature’s not staring at me anymore.
Doing my best to ignore the cat, I lift a hand to sift through Skyler’s hair, prompting him to let out a soft murmur of approval, his eyes falling closed.
“You smell like sex,” I comment.
“You want me to go shower?”
I shrug. “It’s fine.” He’s comfortable now; I don’t want to make him move. And it really doesn’t bother me anyway.
