“She knows better than to jump on you, but she’s excited,” Malachy says to Lucky. “Sit on your butt. That way, she won’t knock you down when she comes to say hello.”
“Okay.” Lucky falls to sit on his backside, nodding. “She loves me. I can tell.”
“Come on,” Patrick says, lifting a hand and gesturing at Lucky as Cleo runs out of the cage and right into his lap. “You cannot beat that level of cuteness.”
Charlotte doesn’t seem very impressed, and I start to panic.
“Cleo is a purebred German shepherd. She’s been through her first two rounds of personal protection training,” I say, like I’m reciting the pamphlet. “She’ll have another training series this coming spring. She’s already potty trained, and she knows sixteen commands.”
She also cost what I would consider a small fortune, but within two to three years, she’ll be fully capable of taking down a grown man.
That financial investment seems worth it to me.
“I’m not waking up in the middle of the night to take her out. The three of you can get plenty of practice not sleeping through the night before the baby even comes.” Charlotte laughs. “I’m not even going to feel sorry for you. You did this to yourselves.” She steps out of Patrick’s hold, going over and kneeling down next to Lucky as she pets the pup. “Oh my god, you are so soft.” She scratches Cleo behind the ears and smiles, but I still might shank Patrick when she’s not looking.
January in Boston is brutal, but it gives us an excuse to stay in.
Charlotte has had the strong urge to nest the last couple of weeks, and she wants us close so she knows we’re safe. Her instincts have been all over the place recently, and so have her moods.
I believe the three of us have an unspoken agreement of sorts. We don’t bring it up, and we do everything in our power to keep her calm and content.
Lucky wants no part of nesting, but he still naps on a very rare occasion. Charlotte sweet-talked him into lying with her onthe circle nest. She’s snoring while he looks about as bored as can be.
Cleo is down by Lucky’s feet, also snoozing. I find it funny how quickly Charlotte got over her ire. She has held her ground about not waking up for middle-of-the-night potty breaks, but I think that’s only fair. The farther along she gets into her pregnancy, the more trouble she has sleeping through the night.
It’s only fair that we manage Cleo, when we are the ones who brought her in. I’m just about to offer to take Lucky out to find Malachy or Pat, but I’m distracted. My hand rests on Charlotte’s stomach, and her skin bounces against my palm.
We’ve felt the baby move here or there, but these are violent kicks. Stretching over Charlotte, I pat Lucky’s shoulder. He rolls toward me and his mother, but I bring a finger to my lips to remind him to be quiet.
Pulling up the front of Charlotte’s maternity shirt, I grab his hand and hold it to her skin where I felt the movement.
His eyes widen, and he whispers, “That’s my baby brother?”
I chuckle. “Yes, or your baby sister.”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling.
Sometimes I wonder what we did to pass the time before they came into our lives. No matter what we kept ourselves busy with, it couldn’t have been anywhere close to as fulfilling as life is with them in it.
Epilogue
Malachy
Four Days After Charlotte’s Due Date
“Idon’t think I can do this again,” Charlotte chokes out, leaning against my chest.
“There’s no stopping the contractions now, I’m afraid,” Cormac says.
I roll my eyes.
I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t decked him yet.
I could do it for her.
At least it would shut him up.
He and Pat are collectively on my last nerve. They’ve been whining nonstop, when Charlotte is the one experiencing true misery.
