Time to redirect the conversation. “What’s Grandma got planned for today’s activities?”
“I am not dying Easter eggs or going on an Easter egg hunt,” Frankie grumps. “We are not having a ‘trial run’ for next year when there are little ones running around.” Grandma has been having trial runs for just about everything since I’ve been pregnant. She even bought Grandpa a Santa suit! I told her Baby Bud won’t be old enough to understand who Santa is this upcoming Christmas to no avail.
“I’d rather dye Easter eggs than talk about my sperm count,” Brodie declares.
“Amen, brother.” Jackson fist-bumps him. They look at Roman, but he shrugs.
“I know I don’t have a sperm count issue.”
Bailey slaps his arm. “Are you seriously bragging about your sperm count?”
Luke leans down and whispers in my ear, “We know I don’t have a sperm count problem.” I roll my eyes. The man is entirely too proud of his prowess in getting me pregnant.
“Why does Roman know his sperm count?” Frankie asks.
I groan. “Oh god, how many times can you say sperm count on Easter Sunday?”
“Challenge accepted!” Shelby shouts, “Sperm count. Sperm count. Sperm count. Sperm co—”
Jackson slaps his hand over her mouth. “I think it was a rhetorical question.”
Grandma and Grandpa Bill walk into the living room. “What are we talking about?”
Shelby is happy to supply her with the answer. “Sperm!”
Bailey clears her throat. “Roman and I want to start trying to have a baby.”
“Hallelujah!” Grandma tackles Bailey and rocks her. “I can’t wait. Another baby. Violet’s baby and your baby will grow up together. Oh, maybe if you have a boy and Violet has a girl, your children can get married someday.”
Frankie groans. “Grandma, you can’t matchmake our children before they’re born!”
Grandma grins. “But I can matchmake them once they’re born? It’s a deal.”
“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant.”
Brodie puts an arm around Frankie and pulls her close. “Take the win, Beautiful. Take the win.”
“I’m sorry, Violet. I know you want a girl, but you’re going to have to have a boy now.”
“Um, Grandma. It’s not my decision whether I have a boy or a girl.” Please tell me she’s joking. She does know how this whole pregnancy thing works, right?
“But if Bailey has a boy and you have a girl, then your girl will be older, and a husband should always be older than the wife.”
Huh. I never thought Grandma would be old-fashioned about anything. She usually tries to keep up with the latest trends and terminology. The other day she asked me to explain genderqueer to her. I told her I had to pee and skedaddled. Explaining non-binary is not now, nor will ever be on the list of talks I want to have with Grandma.
“Of course, you could both have girls and then it wouldn’t matter. I don’t think age differences matter in lesbian couples.” She turns to ask her husband, “What do you think, dear?”
“I think you need to serve me food and stop talking about lesbians is what I think.”
Grandma is completely undeterred by her husband’s grumpiness. “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see what gender the babies are.”
Bailey raises her hand. “In case anyone cares, I’m not actually pregnant yet.”
Grandma claps Roman on the back. “With a big, sturdy man like this, you’ll be pregnant in no time.” She gives Brodie the stink eye. “Unlike this one.”
“Food, woman!” Grandpa shouts and starts walking to the dining room.
There’s a stampede as everyone rushes to follow him. I don’t think anyone’s actually hungry. But I am sure everyone is ready to stop talking about our babies and their possible sexual orientation. At least I’m happy for the subject to be dropped.
I make a detour to the bathroom as I need to pee for like the gazillionth time today. Another wonderful bonus of pregnancy. Sarcasm intended. I finish my business and enter the hallway where I practically walk into Luke.
“What’s up?” I ask him. His response is to mold his lips to mine. My knees weaken and I grab his shoulders to hold on.
When he pulls back, he whispers, “I love you.” I cringe and look away.
Luke growls. “Don’t do that.”
I bat my eyelashes like I have no idea what in the world he’s talking about. “Do what?”
“Cringe whenever I tell you I love you.”
“I—” Luke cuts off my denial when his lips crush mine again. His kiss is hard, almost like he’s punishing me. Punish away!
“I don’t tell you I love you because I want you to say it back. I won’t lie and say I don’t want to hear you say you love me. I do. More than anything in the world.” His hand cradles my belly. “Well, except for meeting Baby Bud.”
I want to open my mouth and tell the man I love him. I never stopped loving him. Even when he was a total asshole and crushed my heart, my heart – stupid organ that it is – yearned for him. But the words refuse to leave my mouth.
“It’s okay. I know I need to earn your trust after what I did.”
“I trust you.” With a start, I realize I do trust him. How could I not? The man jumps to fulfill every wish I have. Whether it’s rushing to buy tacos in the middle of the night or cancelling plans and staying home because I’m too tired to move. And since the hospital scare last month, he also hasn’t hesitated to fulfill my horny needs. Good thing the man has stamina because this girl has needs.
“Hey! What are you two doing whispering in the hallway? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you twice, no baby-making in my house,” Grandma shouts and then stomps away.
“I don’t think you need to worry about the baby-making thing with them, Grandma. Baby is already on board.” Shelby can’t resist laughing at her own lame joke.
“I guess we better get back in there.” I roll my eyes while sticking out my tongue.
Luke chuckles. “Come on, baby mama.”
I growl. “Don’t call me baby mama.” I hate the term ‘baby mamma’ and he knows it. It makes me sound like some one-night stand he accidentally got pregnant. Oh, wait.
Chapter 34
It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to. Well, it’s not my party, but I’ll cry if I want to anyway. ~ Violet’s Secret Thoughts
“What kind of bachelorette party is this?” I cringe as Grandma’s question reverberates through the nearly empty room.
“Told you she’d bitch about not having strippers.” Shelby holds out her hand. “You owe me five bucks.”
“No way.” I shake my head. “I never bet against you.”
I’d have to be an idiot to bet against Shelby in this case. I knew Grandma would not be happy about Bailey’s high tea bachelorette party. I don’t care. Bailey wanted a serene high tea with no games, no strippers, and no shenanigans. What the bride wants, the bride gets.
“I thought you were some fancy-dancy party planner.” Grandma glares at me. “This is not how you put together a bachelorette party.”