“Big Momma!” I call over to her, but Amelia drops her head.
“It’s not ironic these days, Lex. I’m just a huge mother now.”
We both laugh, but Amelia at full-term pregnancy is still about my size normally. She’s literally the world’s cutest pregnant woman, while I’m about to turn into a whale-shaped banshee for the third time.
Amelia and Weston make it to the table and take a seat on the bench across from me, while Montana, who’s just a few weeks apart in age from Blaise, takes her time looking around the huge clearing and play space for what she wants to do next.
The boys are still playing with toy trucks, but they’ve moved out of the sandbox and into a pile of dirt. The girls are still coloring under the shade of the patio.
Montana takes off for the girls.
Wyatt helps her settle in, and I see him check in with each girl at the table before heading back to the table to rejoin his wife and the rest of us. Probably just his wife.
“Dig in,” Wilder tells everyone, gesturing to the table.
“Is this your world famous handmade stuffed gnocchi?” Weston asks, and I watch as Wilder’s eyes light up.
“I don’t know about world famous, but we’re getting there.” He winks at me, and helps serve everyone.
I wait until all of our family has had a chance to get their drinks, and take a few bites before speaking up.
“It’s a good thing you sat over there, Amelia. I’m starting to think you’re contagious.”
Her teal eyes dart up to mine and freeze on me.
Weston and Wyatt both keep eating, but after a few seconds, Weston puts down his fork.
“You’re not…?” He doesn’t bother finishing the question.
It’s my sister I’m waiting to hear from. On instinct, my eyes find her rich brown ones, and she reads me in a flash, mouth popping open. “I thought you were done?” Rory spits out, not being rude, just honest.
“I thought I was.” I punctuate the statement with a glare at my husband.
He lifts one shoulder at me, rolling off the accusation. “It’s not my fault you don’t like me to pull out.”
Grumbles from around the table don’t stop me from responding. “It kind of is, actually.”
Amelia giggles, but Wyatt shuts us down with a loud, grumpy, “TMI.”
Weston leans forward, elbows on the table, and asks, “You have heard of condoms, right?”
My eyes narrow on the younger Grady brother. “You’re one to talk.”
The older Grady brother speaks up again. “Aren’t you too old?”
I wouldn’t say Wyatt has gotten softer with time, at least not with anyone but his wife and daughter, but there isn’t malice behind his words. Just the same blunt guy I’ve always known.
I sniff, raising my chin slightly. “I’ll be the same age as Gwen Stefani when she had her last child.”
Wilder’s arm comes around my side, holding me tight as he kisses the side of my head.
“You’ll be perfect,” ring two voices in unison. I look up to see Amelia’s cheeks nearly splitting from her smile, and my sister’s eyes watering with joy.
“Let’s just hope it isn’t twins again,” I mutter.
“I hope it’s triplets,” Weston says, a gleam shining at me from his eyes. I think he’s joking?
“Spoken like someone who doesn’t have a vagina they’ve ever pushed a human through,” Rory retorts, and my heart surges for her. When she uses her words like a battle axe for me, I think that might be my love language.
