Carol, on the other hand, is smaller and looks exactly like a younger version of Marie.
“Shannon?” I gasp as they walk in carrying plastic bags filled with bakery boxes, another bag weighted down by what looks like two–no, three–pints of ice cream.
Ahhhhhhhhh.
They brought one serving each.
“Maple fritters?” Shannon pulls giant bear-claw pastries out of the box, the telltale beige maple coating making me drool.
Except–is that orange on them?
“I got Paula at the bakery to roll their maple fritters in crushed Cheetos. I think she gagged a little doing it, but I threw a $10 bill in the tip jar after and she told me to call ahead for custom orders any time.”
Carol shudders. “How can you eat that?”
“Like this.” I take a bite, baring my teeth. “Mmmmm.”
“Your babies will be born orange.”
“That's better than being born too early.”
Shannon sighs, giving me a shaky smile, eyes worried. “How are they?”
“Lefty is learning the tap dance routine to Long Way Round, while Righty has decided to nap for long stretches and scare the hell out of me. He only moves when I eat a lot of sugar.” I lift my maple fritter in the air like a wine glass. “Cheers! This'll get him moving.”
Carol stares at my belly. “Two. Wow. One is hard enough.”
“It's not like I know any different.”
“Right. It'll make future kids easier.”
I stop chewing.
“Mmmmpfh?”
“You know. When you guys have your third kid, a singleton will be a breeze.”
The mouthful of fritter turns to glue. It's impossible to swallow. As if she knows, Shannon hands me my water bottle. I clear out my mouth and say, “Third?”
Carol and Shannon burst into laughter.
“We all think we want four kids, don't we? Then we go through pregnancy and childbirth. The sleepless newborn phase.”
“Teething,” Shannon chimes in, patting her breasts. “Ellie gave me a free nipple piercing.”
Here we go. The battle-weary parenting stories. I'm stuck, aren't I? Can't escape.
Carol nudges her sister and then peels the top off her hand-packed pint of ice cream. I smell peppermint. “You're the ones trying for another.”
Shannon pokes my belly with her unused spoon. “Dec wants to know how to conceive triplets so we can beat Andrew and get our four out of the way in two pregnancies.”
“Declan is insane.”
“I know, right? Why would I want to give up all that sex?”
“All that sex?”
“If we get three kids with one pregnancy, we miss the conception sex. The second trimester sex. The–”
I grab a chocolate-coated horn from the bakery box and shove it in her mouth. “We are not talking about sex. I am not allowed to orgasm.”
Carol snatches the pint of ice cream out of my hands.
“Then you definitely can't eat this,” she declares.
“Come on! It's not–” I halt my words, knowing I'm wrong.
One arched eyebrow is all I get in response.
“Fine. It is that good. But I'm still eating it!”
“Bed rest means no orgasms?” Shannon asks, already done with the chocolate horn and now peeling the top off her ice cream.
“For me. Andrew can have as many as he wants.”
They snort in unison.
“Of course he can. We're the ones who are biologically forced to take on all the work. We singlehandedly grow new generations!”
“And they want a say in naming the kids.”
“Do you have any picked out other than Lefty and Righty?” I don't need the eye roll Carol tosses in with that question.
“What's wrong with those?”
“Hah.”
“Andrew has suggested Anderson and Bruford.”
“BRUFORD?”
“And then our third and fourth kids will be Wakeman and Howe.”
They stare at me. The joke goes over their heads.
“You know. Yes?”
“Yes?”
“The band?”
“What about them?”
“They split up and later formed–oh, never mind. Let's just say Andrew wants to name our kids after rock stars.”
“Wouldn't be the first. Tyler has a kid named Kanye in his class. And I know someone who named her son Prince after Prince died.” Carol taps her front teeth with her spoon. “Now I'm wondering about Jimmy Page in Jeffrey's Boy Scout troop and Gaga McFarland. Hmmm.”
“Six years from now, how many girls are going to show up in kindergarten named Cardi B. and Meghan Thee?” I muse.
“What are the names?” Shannon demands.
“Not telling.”
“COME ON! I'm your best friend!”
“We don't know,” I confess.
“Liar.”
“No. Really. It's hard to name one baby, I'm sure, but two...”
Shannon gives me the stink eye. “Anything but James and James Too.”
I nearly spit out my mouthful of Cheeto ice cream. “Don't give him any ideas!”
“Declan is incensed that James is favoring your twins over Ellie already.”
“He's such a sexist pig.”
Carol watches us like a gossip-chasing paparazzo. “You two are hilarious.”
“What?” we say in unison.
“You're married to billionaires. Your father-in-law is a billionaire. Your children will be raised with the ultimate luxury. They'll never worry for a thing. And you're making fun of the guy who forged the path for your husbands and your babies.”
We pause. Shannon and I look at each other, frowning.
With a quick lick of her spoon, Shannon turns to Carol and says, “And your point is?”
“Have you ever spent more than ten minutes with James McCormick? His ego fills the room like a bad fart,” I add.
“And there might even be a scent of sulfur after he leaves.” Shannon points the spoon at me and we high five.
Carol's head shake makes me waver. “You make it sound like he's all bad.”
“He's not,” I jump in.
“But he's.... he's....” Shannon struggles, like me, to explain it to an outsider.
And then it hits me.
Outsider.
All my life, I looked at the Jacoby family and wanted desperately to be a part of it. Marie and Jason loved me–and still love me–as if I'm one of their girls, but of course, I'm not. I never will be.
And Carol's watching Shannon and me from the outside right now, looking in.
She'll never be married to a McCormick. Never understand what it's like to have James as a father-in-law. Shannon and I are in a club she can't join, and I wonder if she's jealous.
But I don't think that's what's going on here.
“You know the old saying that the only people who understand what a marriage is like are the two people in the marriage?” I ask her.
“Mmmph,” she says affirmatively, mouth stuffed with ice cream.
“It's like that, having James as your father-in-law. The guy tried to exploit our weddings on social media. Used us as leverage to get the company's stock price up. He views his kids and his extended family members as pawns for his own gain.”