“Six hundred sixty-six.”
I didn’t think black clashed with anything but it turns out I was wrong. It clashes with baby showers.
“I’ll put you down for forty-one,” Brook says, marking the board.
More questions are called out and papers passed around. When Jolene asks everyone to guess at the baby’s hair and eye colors, Amber’s contribution is, “Black hair and red eyes.” When Patsy begins a poll to name the baby, Amber’s donation is, “Lucifer for a boy, and Satania for a girl.”
“Oh, Amber, stop,” Brook says, disappointment threatening her recent Botox injection.
“What? Those are great names. In fact, don’t even put those on the board. I’m going to use them for my own kids someday.”
Brook rolls her eyes. “I thought you said marriage was just the government’s way of enslaving people.”
“I did. But you don’t have to be married to get pregnant. Right Charlie?”
The whole room lapses into an awkward silence. I smile and try to laugh it off. “Why don’t we play that diaper-poop game someone suggested? That sounds like a good one.”
Noise slowly returns to the room. Next to me, Cadence fumbles a smile.
“Don’t worry about her.” Paige pulls her chair closer to me. She reaches over and rubs my round belly.
I’ve noticed over the past couple of months, every time I get angry or nervous, the baby kicks more. Right now, it’s like there’s a line dance going on in there. “Tell the truth,” I ask my sister. “Have I become a walking cliché?”
“No, of course not.”
“Because I’m knocked up, unmarried and this morning I walked around barefoot in the kitchen, making those little cupcakes.”
Paige pats me affectionately. “You could’ve been married by now,” she says, referring to Alex’s many attempts to get hitched before the baby arrives.
“It’s bad enough I can’t wear white, I’m not walking down the aisle looking like one of Dumbo Bill’s hot air balloons.”
The baby kicks hard, possibly irritated at having such a stubborn mother. I soothe the spot, rubbing in gentle circles.
“May I?” Cadence holds out her hand.
I take it and place it over the spot where Baby Ramirez is currently hosting a one-sided MMA fight. She smiles brightly before pulling her hand back.
“So what does Alex want? A boy or a girl?” she asks.
“I think he’d like a little boy, but he won’t say. Of course, with the arrival of little Kenneth Chamberlain the fourth last week, I suspect he may get his wish.”
“I still can’t believe you bet on my due date before I told you I was even pregnant.” My sister narrows her eyes at me.
“Hey, I’m just lucky you were late. If you’d gone into labor any sooner, Brook would’ve taken the pot.”
Paige raises her chin in a haughty expression. “Well it would’ve served you right, betting on your sister like that.”
Cadence, not privy to the art form of lying to your sister, bursts out laughing. “Oh please, Paige. I know you bet on
her
due date. But you’re going to lose. I bet July 15
th
.”
“Hey, that’s not fair! You can’t bet one day beyond me. This isn’t the
Price is Right
!”
I look indignantly at my sister and then, because we’re both so sleep deprived, we lapse into uncontrolled giggles. Cadence joins in.
I hold my belly with one hand and dry my eyes with the other and see Amber sneaking her way into the display case.
“Excuse me.” I hoist myself off the chair with some difficulty. I slide between the space in the counter and sneak up behind Amber.
“I know you’re there,” she says in her deadpan tone.
“Damn. I was going to scare you for stealing from me again.”
Amber turns, a chocolate éclair held between black fingernails. “I’ve told you. It’s not stealing. It’s payment.”
I tap my fingers against the top of my belly. “Sweet Jesus, here we go again. What is it this time? Another warning about my love life? In case you haven’t noticed, things are going pretty well in that department.”
In the months since Amber’s warnings about the sugar bowl and my cowboy boots, her psychic proclamations have become non-existent. I’ll admit, her wording was a little too accurate to be merely coincidence, but her warnings were all wrong. I was never meant to stay away from Alex, we were meant to find our way back to one another.
“It’s not a warning this time. It’s a request.”
“A request?” I ask, curious. “From my mother?”
Amber nods her head and takes a bite of the éclair. “She’s been hanging around all morning,” she says through a full mouth. “I thought your aunts were bad but your mom can blab with the best of them.”
The baby moves inside me, reacting to the increase in my heartbeat. “Amber, if this is some kind of joke…”
“Never joke about the dead. Rule one.” She tears off another piece.
I wait for her to swallow. “What’s the message?”
“It’s just one word. Delilah.”
My voice sounds croaky when I speak. “Delilah? Are you sure?”
Amber walks around me and snatches a cupcake from the counter. “I know, right? Satania is so much better.”
I watch as she leaves through the front door, snacking on the sweet as she goes. Brook, Patsy, and Jolene lean against the counter and face me.
“What’s the matter, honey-bee?” Jolene asks.
A little foot kicks me on the side. I look down, running my hands across my former waist, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. “I think I’m having a little girl,” I say, bursting with joy.
Patsy lets loose a low whistle. “Thank God for that. Another male member of this family and the people in town would probably storm the trailer park with pitchforks.”
Brook reaches to pat the baby. “Why do you think it’s a girl?”
Another roundhouse kick nearly drops me to my knees. I smile. “Because I’ve got a fighter in there, and she’s ready to come out boots swinging.”
Also by Emily Hemmer
The Break-Up Psychic
Dangerously Dimpled, book one.
Available through Amazon Kindle, Barnes & Noble, & EmilyHemmer.com
Ellie has a bad habit of picking the wrong man; a cheating ex-boyfriend, a mild-mannered foot fetishist, and let’s not forget about the hillbilly with the impolite hard-on. But when Sam James, the oh-so-hot bad boy Ellie has sworn to stay away from, keeps turning up like a bad penny, she’s going to need more than her psychic senses to see what’s coming her way.
About the Author
Emily Hemmer was raised in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago before settling in Kansas City in 1996. She was raised in a house full of women and can therefore shower, blow-dry her hair, and apply full makeup in twenty minutes flat. A huge fan of romantic comedies, Emily was overjoyed to learn that her college roommate could recite every word of the movie
Clueless,
until she realized that was the only VHS tape her roommate owned. Emily dropped out of college and to this day, blames the listless years of her twenties on the words, “As if!” She completed her degree after an extended eleven-year semester break.
Married in 1998, Emily and her husband ‘Mr. T’ have two beautiful children now entering their teenage years. Her mother assures her that these years are not meant as punishment for parents, but as a source of great hilarity and recompense for grandparents. A sweet yellow lab, a jerk-face Viszla puppy, and an evil Siamese cat make up the rest of the family.
In October 2012, Emily learned she came in 2nd place for the SFARWA ‘s Heart-to-Heart contest (for contemporary single title romance) for her first work, The Break-Up Psychic. This work has been a true labor of love and is the basis for all of Emily’s future happiness. But she’s trying not to put too much pressure on herself.
According to her Yahoo! Shine horoscope for 2013, this year looks to be the best of Emily’s life. She has plans to publish three books, win countless accolades from her peers, and literally roll around on a bed made of money. She also plans to purchase a new dishwasher and write a new author bio.
Stalk Emily
(it’s okay, she loves attention.)
www.facebook.com/emilyhemmerauthor
tweet me @emilyhemmer
Table of Contents
Copyright © 2013 by Emily Hemmer
For my parents, because they taught me how to be a good person.
Read All About Alex & Charlie’s One Night Stand in:Just One:
Table of ContentsChapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter Four
Chapter FourteenFourteen Days Until Patsy’s Girdle Goes Kaput