Page 157 of Let Me Show You

“What? We said noon. I’m fifteen minutes early.”

“Noon for the guests, eleven for the hosts,” I clarify.

She shrugs. “Potato, potahto.”

“At least you’re here before Gemma.”

Gemma strolls in, beaming.

“You look gorgeous!” I tell her, admiring her adorable pink sundress. “We have a crown and sash for you to wear too.”

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t!” she squeals. “Okay fine, I’ll wear it.”

“And since you two bitches can’t drink, I’ll be drinking for three.” Everleigh smirks, holding up a bottle of vodka.

“Everleigh!” Gemma scowls. “It’s noon.”

“Ever hear of mimosas?”

I snort. “You’re a handful. Gonna pray for the poor man you end up tying down someday.”

“Oh, he’ll be tied down alright. Rope, handcuffs, cable ties…”

“Not the kind I meant, Ev.” I chuckle.

Once the guests arrive, we chat and mingle until it’s time to eat. Everleigh was in charge of the games, and after the first one, I realize what a mistake that was.

“Baby Advice Mad Libs,” she sing-songs. “Fill out the card, and whoever has the most creative answer wins this lovely gift basket of lotions and bath bombs.” She holds it up. “You’ll get twenty minutes while you eat, and then I’ll read them aloud.”

“How’re you feelin’, sweetie?” Loretta asks as I chug water.

“I’m great. Constantly tired and I still get nauseous a few times a day, but I honestly can’t complain that much.”

“It’s gonna be so nice having so many little babies.” She smiles.

“Imagine if Everleigh gets pregnant next,” my mom chimes in.

“Imagine if I had a girl, and she falls for one of your little boys,” Everleigh adds, waggling her brows. “Or both.”

“This sounds like a naughty Hallmark movie.” Gemma snorts.

“Your children aren’t allowed near my boys.” I place a protective hand over my belly. “Especially the girls.”

“I take offense to that!”

The group of us laughs.

When the twenty minutes are up, Everleigh collects everyone’s cards and begins flipping through them.

“Alright, I think we have a winner,” Everleigh announces with a shit-eating smirk.

“My advice for the mom-to-be is: no matter what he says, anal is not permitted after giving birth.”

“Oh my God, I think I peed myself.” Gemma laughs. “Who said that?”

“There’s no name on the card,” Everleigh says, flipping it over. “Alright, you dirty birds, who wrote this one? You can’t get your prize if you don’t come forward.” She rocks the basket back and forth, trying to entice them.

Finally, someone raises their hand.