Page 261 of Wait for Him

“Good.” Blaire kisses my cheek, then immediately jerks backward in horror. “Shit. Did I get lipstick on you?”

Macy groans from somewhere behind us.

“If either of you fuck up her makeup one more time, I’m leaving.”

I laugh and reach for another tissue. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

She’s right. I’m not.

***

“You ready?” Samson asks as we stand in front of the doors waiting for them to open. He holds out his arm, and I happily loop mine through it.

“I’m ready. But where is James?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Uncle BenBen had to fix my tie.”

I turn at the sound of his voice and watch him hurry toward us, straightening his suit jacket as he walks.

Samson laughs. “He’s really not letting him up on that bet, is he?”

“Nope.”

James made the mistake of losing a bet against Michael, and Michael has remained completely committed to collecting his winnings through public humiliation ever since.

Family.

“Ready, Mama?” James asks when he reaches us, placing both hands against the sides of my stomach. Then he bends toward it. “You ready too, baby sis?”

I’m about to answer when his tie catches my attention, and every thought I had disappears.

“What...” I reach for it. “Where did you get this?”

“Michael’s had it,” Samson says quietly.

It’s my dad’s tie.

My fingers move over the fabric, taking in the tiny pictures printed all over it. We had the thing made for him years ago, one of those cheesy personalized gifts we thought was hilarious. Dad loved it with a sincerity none of us had prepared for and wore the damn thing far more often than any reasonable person should have, usually with some dress shirt it didn’t remotely match. He’d proudly explain to anyone stupid enough to comment that his family made it for him.

Then my fingers reach the knot.

There’s a tiny elephant pinned beneath it.

My mom’s favorite brooch.

Oh my God.

“James.”

“I thought I’d bring a little bit of Grandma and Grandpa with me today.” His voice is quieter now, some of his usual confidence disappearing while he watches my face. “Is that okay?”

“Is that okay?” I repeat, already reaching for him. “God, James.”

I pull him into my arms, and at this point my makeup is just going to have to fend for itself. Macy has fixed it three times. I cannot reasonably expect her to follow me around all day with a brush every time somebody emotionally assaults me.

I’m pregnant.