“I’ll do better than find a corner. I’ll find a new place to live!” I storm out of the living room crying, snatch my keys off the kitchen counter, and slam the front door behind me.
I DROVE AROUND FOR HOURS,knowing without fail I would end up here.
I ring the doorbell and London answers moments later.
“Hey.” She hugs me.
“Expecting me?”
She nods. “Kayne was here a little while ago looking for you. He said you had an argument.”
“Argument is an understatement. I cracked one of the windows in the living room.”
“One of the big ones?” Her eyes widen.
“Yup,” I confirm.
“Did you try and put his head through it?”
I laugh. It feels cathartic. “I threw the remote at him and missed. Let’s hope this baby doesn’t inherit my accuracy.” I put my hands on my protruding stomach. “Is Jett around? I need to talk to him.”
“Upstairs. He just finished giving Becks a bath. Somehow, he got into the pantry, climbed on the shelf, and opened the peanut butter jar. The kicker, instead of eating it, he decided to rub it all over his body and the kitchen walls.”
“No.” I gasp.
“Yes.” She sighs exasperated.
“And you want another one?”
“If I change my mind, it’s too late now.”
I stare at her funny. “Are you . . . ?”
London nods precariously.
“Oh!” I hug her. “You’re insane and a little bit my hero.”
“Mommy?” Becks calls for London from the top of the stairs.
“Here, baby.” He walks down all clean. Blond hair blow-dried and blue eyes mischievous.
London lifts him into her arms. “Mommy has a baby in her belly,” he tells me in his sweet little raspy voice.
“I heard.” I smile at the gorgeous little boy.
“And let’s hope he or she only looks like you.” London touches her forehead to his. Becks chortles spiritedly, like he understands his mother’s joke. “Go on upstairs, Ellie. I need to give this little rascal some dinner.”
“Okay.” I walk up the stairs while London carries Becks into the kitchen. I love London and Jett’s house. It is so warm and full of love with pictures of them and the children everywhere. My favorites are the artistic shots in black and white. London loves photography and is extremely talented with a camera. I’ve already recruited her to take the baby’s first newborn shots.
Upstairs, I find Jett rinsing out the tub.
“A father’s work is never done,” I quip as I lean against the doorframe.
“Nope. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He flashes a smile at me, the front of his shirt soaking wet.
“I hear congratulations are in order,again,”I say cheerfully.
He grins brightly, confirming the news. “Yes, they are.”
