She leans close to my pickle. “Let me have a bite.”
I snatch my hand back. “Mine!”
“Dang, I was only joking,” she says, amusement in her artificial pink-colored eyes. “Pickles and peanut butter? Nooo, thank you.”
“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” I tell her. “But not this one. This one is mine.”
“Pregnant people are weird.” Leah chuckles and pops a salt and vinegar chip into her mouth.
We’ve both been snacking, waiting impatiently for the food to get done.
“All jokes aside, you look absolutely stunning,” Meela comments, giving me a once-over.
I smile from ear to ear. “Thank you. You look stunning yourself.”
Meela skims a hand over her butterfly locks. “I always do, don’t I?”
I roll my eyes at her smug remark, but she’s not wrong. She even wears sexy little pieces to bed. Practice for when she finally gets her man. Her words, not mine.
Today, she’s sporting a yellow, long-sleeved crop top with a smiley face on the front, paired with ripped, skin-tight jeans. A pair of sky-high platform sneakers in the same sunny yellow completes the look.
I’m looking pretty fashionable today too—thanks to my stylish friend. She picked out a long, flowy blush-pink dress and silver flats with rhinestone buckles. The dress drapes off my shoulders, showing a hint of cleavage. A matching tiara sits atop my bohemian knotless braids. Meela had it custom-made by a girl she found on Instagram, along with the sash that proudly declares me “Mother-to-Be.”
She and Leah were up at the crack of dawn, decorating the clubhouse for my baby shower. I’m genuinely impressed. Blush pink, silver, and ivory decor fill the room—from the table centerpieces to the balloon bouquets. Zeus covered the cost, but my friends handled all the planning.
Soon, I’ll be the proud mom of twin daughters. I still can’tbelieve it. Sandman didn’t speak for a full ten minutes after the ultrasound tech told us there were two babies growing inside me.
“You were supposed to be back two hours ago,” Leah comments, arching an eyebrow at Meela.
“What can I say? I needed my beauty rest.”
“Oh God,” Leah scoffs, rolling her eyes.
I smile, grateful for them both. Without Meela and Leah, I’d be a wreck. My grandmother is gone. And the woman who gave birth to me? Vanished. Loretta Kensley never had a maternal bone in her body, but it still hurts that she hasn’t reached out. That silence cuts deeper than I expected.
I’m especially grateful Leah is here. She hates anything to do with the Gods, but she still came to support me. Thankfully, Snake is keeping his distance, though I’ve caught his eyes on her more than once.
I glance around the crowded room—the same room where the Thanksgiving massacre happened. I don’t recognize half the faces. Most of them showed up after the attack and never left.
The war between the Gods and the Disciples is still raging, with both sides suffering losses. Spider has managed to stay under the radar so far. Even today, security is tight to prevent another bloodbath. It’s not every day you see men with machine guns at a baby shower.
I sigh. The past five months have been rough. I’m mostly on lockdown, though I’m still allowed to attend school. I know it’s for my own protection, but the cabin fever is real.
To make things worse, two detectives showed up about a week after the attack, asking about Redmond. Sandman saw it coming and coached me on what to say. I played it cool and answered all their questions. Yes, he visited me. No, I didn’t agree to the arrangement between him and my mother. Yes, to my knowledge, he left after I refused to be his whore. I was terrified, but I didn’t let it show.
Sandman was questioned too, since he and Redmond kneweach other once upon a time. With no evidence of a crime, the detectives hit a dead end.
“Food’s ready,” Leah squeals excitedly and bounds to her feet. “Want me to make you a plate?”
I drop my pickle into the jar of peanut butter. “Absolutely, and give me some of everything.”
“Roger that, food for three coming right up.” Leah speed-walks toward the buffet-style setup as the designated cooks place a serving utensil on top of each covered dish. I requested vegan options just for my plant-eating friend.
“Greedy as fuck,” Meela mumbles under her breath.
I point my index finger in her face. “Didn’t I tell you to shut it?”
She plucks said finger, and I whine dramatically. “Ouch, that hurt.”
