Olivia: Just ride the wave. Eventually, you’ll want to cut their dicks off.
Me: Violent. I like it.
Callie: I doubt it. His dick is just so pretty.
Me: Valid.
“Pass the mint chip,”Callie says, setting the pint of vanilla ice cream on Griffin’s coffee table next to her empty jar of pickles.
I put my spoon in my mouth for safekeeping and slide the carton across the coffee table to Olivia, who then hands it over to Callie.
“Want some cookie butter?” Olivia offers me the jar with a sleeve of graham crackers.
I take it happily.
“God, I really needed the girl time.”
“Wilder still hovering?” Callie asks.
She sighs. “It’s gotten worse. I get it. Really, I do. Gracie’s birth wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but I’m not even allowed to put on my own shoes or take things out of the oven by myself.”
“Look on the bright side. You only have”—I count out the weeks on my fingers and wince—“six weeks left.”
“I might murder him before that,” she deadpans, reaching for the vanilla ice cream.
Callie snorts. “None of us is in any fit state to be hiding a body.”
“You know we can hear you, right?” Wilder’s voice filters in from somewhere.
The men have been waiting on us hand and foot since everybody arrived at Griffin’s place about an hour ago.
I suppose it’s our place now. I should get used to thinking of it that way. They’re moving my stuff in as we speak, unloading the last of my boxes from the moving van. They balked at our offer to help, relegating us to the living room with snacks, not that any of us are complaining.
“Love you, Big Guy,” Olivia calls back.
He comes up behind her and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you, too, Livie girl, but you’re still not takingthe cupcakes out of the oven by yourself anymore. You almost burned your belly last week.”
She pouts. “But I didn’t.”
He tugs on her bottom lip before releasing it to replace his finger with his mouth. “Quit arguing with me and enjoy your girl time.”
“I would if you three would stop listening in on our conversation.”
“Alright. Fine. We’ll get back to work. Holler if you need anything else, my queens.” He makes a dramatic bow and heads back the way he came.
“You breastfed Gracie, right?” I ask Olivia.
She mumbles her ascent around a mouthful of vanilla ice cream.
“Was it awful? I mean, physically? I just can’t wrap my head around having a baby attached to my nipple, not to mention I’ve heard about them cracking and mastitis.”
She sits up straighter like she’s about to deliver some incredible wisdom. “It’s one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. Babies don’t always latch well, you’re on call 24/7, and it can hurt. But I wouldn’t do anything differently. At first, Gracie was exclusively breastfed, but it was so difficult, and it took a toll on my mental health. Eventually, I started pumping and stockpiling in the freezer so we could bottle feed, and it took away so much of the mental load.”
She takes another bite of ice cream and continues, waving the spoon in the air as she speaks. “There’s no one right way to do things. There’s only what works for you,” she says, pointing the round end of the utensil at me. “As long as the baby is fed, you’re doing great.” She laughs. “It is nice to be able to whip out a boob whenever the baby gets fussy, though.”
“Jax and I talked about it,” Callie says. “He’s going to behome with them more than I will after my maternity leave, so we’re going to supplement.”
Olivia clutches her chest. “Aww. Stay-at-home dad Jaxy.”
