Caulder shakes his head. “It’s a boy,” he insists. “He likes good music, riding in my truck, and he goes crazy when he hears motorcycles.”
“Uh oh. Alexandra’s already into bad boys. You better be prepared,” I sing, winning a smile from Savannah and a scowl from Caulder.
“Y’all really should just find out, I’m tired of buying yellow,” Mom adds from where she and my dad are preparing dinner.
“I think Ace is right. Baby is definitely a girl,” Savannah says, looking down at her growing stomach in adoration.
I grin, gazing up at Caulder with a gloating expression which he returns with an eye roll.
Caulder’s the newest member of our family. He and Savannah celebrated their second wedding anniversary just last month. He grew up with a sister, however, there are days it’s apparent that having a single sibling in no way prepared him for our large family.
Kendall initially had a difficult time understanding our older sister’s draw to Caulder. Savannah’s always been sweet and soft spoken, with a strong draw to children that led her to teaching kindergarten. Caulder’s very serious—to the point of being almost stiff and awkward at times. However, I’d known from the moment I met Caulder that he and Savannah would be perfect for one another. They’re like yin and yang: Where she sees possibility, he sees risk; where she leans toward new ventures, he gravitates toward familiarity. But neither stifles the other; they balance each other.
“Is Abby coming tonight?” Mom asks.
At the mention of my best friend I turn toward my mom. “Yeah, she leaves Tuesday. So she’s staying the night.”
“We’ve got to get her to call you Ace. I still look around to see who in the hell she’s talking to when I hear her call you Harper,” Kyle says, prodding through the macarons.
“It is my name.”
He looks up from the box with a hint of sadness rounding his eyes. “But you’re Ace.” Prior to college everyone called me by the nickname, but this past year at college when others heard my name listed off attendance sheets, I became Harper.
Kyle’s known me since I was six, long enough to warrant the confusion. We met when my oldest sister, Mindi, had taken me to the park near our house with a couple of her friends as an excuse to watch the high school boys’ football practice. I had quickly grown bored of the mundane task of sitting still and not bothering them, and eventually left in search of something more entertaining. It didn’t take long before I couldn’t see Mindi or the direction from which I’d travelled. I was crying and wandering aimlessly when Kyle found me. He took my hand and we set off to find Mindi with a trail of his bad jokes in our wake.
When we found her, she was so worked up—fearing something had happened to me—she hadn’t even realized I was still gripping Kyle’s hand when she flung her arms around me. However, her stress seemed to dissipate faster than it should’ve once she noticed him. They began dating the following week, and he became a permanent fixture in our house and family albums, becoming like a brother to me and the rest of my sisters, and a son to my parents.
Kyle and I have always had a special bond, sharing a passion for running, soccer, and my family. Where Savannah is sweet, and probably too nice, Mindi has the tendency to be a bit dramatic, rivaling Kendall with being both bossy and loud. In addition, she was born a perfectionist, something I’m intimately familiar with since it’s one of the few traits that I, too, received from our mom.
“Where’s Mindi and the girls?” I ask, noticing Savannah looking precariously close to tears again.
“They’re at a birthday party. What four-year-old has their party at a nail salon?” he grumbles. “I mean, seriously.”
“Mom!” Kendall yells, making both Kyle and I sink back farther into the kitchen. Kendall’s well-known for needing her sleep, and her tone makes it apparent the jetlag is hitting her hard. “Have you seen my jean shorts with the lace pockets?”
“Kyle, the girls are here,” Mom announces, shoving a bag of pink, heart-shaped marshmallows in my hands. “She’s been cravin’ these, and she’s been in sort of a mood lately.” Her blue eyes widen, serving as a warning.
I raise my eyebrows and nod before following Kyle outside, hearing my mom yell a response to Kendall before the door closes behind us.
Mindi’s working to unlatch my three-year-old niece, Jade, from her car seat as we approach, allowing a large gap between us. Unlike Savannah, Mindi hates all physical contact while she’s pregnant.
“You need to stop wiggling! I don’t know why the sky’s blue. It just is.” My oldest sister’s struggling to maintain her patience.
“Hey, Min.” I try my best to sound friendly.
“Auntie Ace!” Jade’s words sound like a song as she’s freed from her car seat.
“Auntie Ace, can I go let Zeus out?” Mindi and Kyle’s oldest daughter, Emily, asks, hopping to a stop in front of me, her bright blue eyes round, shining with excitement.
“Yeah. He’s in the backyard.”
Both girls race across the lawn, their blonde hair dancing behind them. They shriek and giggle as Kyle chases them to the back gate.
“Are those…” Mindi rips open the bag of marshmallows before I can complete the pass and shoves two in her mouth. Her forehead relaxes, and her eyes close with contentment. “Thank you,” she garbles, covering her full mouth with her fingers.
A loud muffler rips through the air. Mindi and I turn, seeing a shiny black motorcycle pull into the driveway beside ours.
“Who’s that? Is that Hank? Oh my God, I look so fat today! Please don’t let it be Hank.” Mindi’s voice is a plea as she sidesteps so she’s mostly behind me.
“Max! Welcome home, son! It’s good to see you.” My dad calls before the helmet fully reveals Max’s face.
“Hey, Mr. Bosse. It’s good to be home and feel some sun.”
“Dear lord, what do those boys drink? I want some,” Mindi whispers, eating another marshmallow.
Max has been my neighbor since I was nine. He’s only two years older than me—the same age as Kendall—however, he’s never paid attention to any of us. Kendall had made it her personal mission to bait him one summer, spending an exorbitant amount of time and energy on trying to catch his attention. Me, being the youngest, and her partner in crime, had assisted in many of her missions, but he never did more than give us the briefest of acknowledgments. Eventually, she lost interest.
I blame the fact that I paid too much attention to Max over the years, because of my role in playing her wingman, but that’s only a half truth. Something about him has always intrigued me. He always remained slightly distant, looking at everyone with an edge of suspicion.
When Kendall and Max started high school, two summers after her failed attempt to catch his attention, Max began dating every girl in their class. She was bent out of shape for a while then brushed it off, calling him a manwhore, and focused her sights elsewhere, but I continued to watch.
Max has always been attractive, hence the many girls going home with him. He’d always been more built than the other guys in school. I’d quickly learned it was partly out of necessity; he and his two older brothers—who we used to refer to as Hank the Tank and Billy the Bully—would work out constantly, then beat each other senseless. Mom used to scream for Dad to go break up their knock-down, drag-out fights, certain that one of them was going to kill the other. They never did; however, gashes and bruises were frequently worn.