Chapter 8 Will the Fuckery Never End? Cara #2
Mémère watches me as I style my hair with long, thick waves, put the finishing touches on my makeup.
She tells me about her own wedding, a story I know by heart but never get tired of.
How her mom cried her eyes out when her dad walked her down the aisle, how they ate her grandma’s famous tourtière and danced under the stars, where she told Pépère he was going to be a father.
“How is that going for you, darling?”
I sweep my lipstick over my lips, rolling them together as I avoid her gaze. “How is what going?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and when I look at her, there’s a heaviness in her eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t hide your heartache, Cara.”
Hanging my head, I sweep my hair over my shoulder, twirling the tube of lipstick between my fingers.
“Our first IUI was twelve days ago. I had my bloodwork this morning to see if I’m…
to see if we’re…” My hand goes to my stomach.
Butterflies dance there, as they’ve been doing for the last twelve days, since I walked out of that sterile office after having my husband’s exceptional sperm shot up my vagina.
Something just feels so good, so right, and I can’t explain it. “We haven’t gotten the results yet.”
“Will they call you? To tell you?”
I shake my head. “Email.”
Mémère’s nose scrunches. “Seems impersonal.”
“I’m not getting my hopes up.” My hopes are in outer space. “It’s a special day, and I don’t want anything to take away from it. Emmett and I are going to wait ’til tomorrow morning to read the email.”
She smiles, soft and warm, and I want to crawl through my iPad and hug her, soak up her love, every ounce of her strength.
“You two will be wonderful parents when your time comes.” Clasping her hands beneath her chin, she watches as I step back, slipping into my champagne heels and showing her the finished look.
“One thing I never forget.” She taps her temple.
“How beautiful my granddaughter is. Like she was plucked straight from heaven.”
“I come from a long line of angels.”
“You sure do, darling. Now get going. You’ve been planning this wedding for months. While my usual motto is always late but worth the wait—”
“I can’t be late. Not for this.”
“Je t’aime, mon c?ur.”
“Je t’aime, Mémère.”
I put down my iPad, leaning on the counter as I stare down at my phone, and the little red bubble that tells me I have an unread email.
There’s a single pregnancy test in the cabinet that’s calling my name, and I open the door, looking at it.
I refuse to buy more than one at a time.
One says I’m hopeful that’s all I’ll need.
But a whole box? A whole box says we’ll be at this for a while.
I’m not supposed to test. That’s what most of the hopeful parents say on the forum, anyway. Because urine tests aren’t anywhere near as sensitive as blood draws to measure your hCG.
Don’t torture yourself, they say, and I’m not about to, so I point at the test and say, “Shut your mouth, bitch,” before slamming the cabinet and hightailing it to the hall.
I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN.
I should have known that at an event I so meticulously crafted, the single thing I delegated to the boys would be the thing that fucks this entire wedding up.
They had one job.
One fucking job.
“What are you doing?”
The boys stop what they’re doing. Or, more accurately, they freeze. Then, slowly, like deer caught in headlights, their eyes rise to me, wide, terrified.
Jaxon gulps, his hands slowly moving to cover his junk, like he’s afraid he’s about to lose it.
Garrett sidesteps away from the mess, then slowly backs away, hiding himself behind Adam, whose hands slowly rise above his head.
Emmett opens his mouth, seems to think better of it, and shuts it again. Good boy.
But Carter? Carter doesn’t think better of it.
“We’re doing what you asked, duh. Getting the gender reveal ready.
” His gaze meets mine, and his brain must finally set off those alarms in his pretty head.
“Nothing,” he rushes out, then drops the pile of small balloons from his arms so he can hide his hands behind his back.
The balloons hit the walkway at his feet, sending a spray of pink and blue water up around us.
It splatters on Carter’s white shirt, the colors blending into a pretty shade of periwinkle I’d appreciate more in literally any scenario other than this one.
Carter looks down at his shirt, swallows, and looks back to me. “Nothing,” he whispers again.
Honestly, it’s my fault. When the bride wondered about doing a gender reveal during their wedding reception, I vehemently agreed. I should have never expected the boys to be able to handle not one, but two monumental occasions in the same day.
“Please tell me your gender reveal idea wasn’t to make a giant mess at Adam and Rosie’s wedding.
” I grip my hips, peeking around the corner of the house into the backyard.
Rosie is busy with the rest of the girls, dancing with the kids.
“If a splash of that gets on Rosie’s gorgeous dress, I will personally see to it that none of you are ever able to reproduce again.
” I take in his colorful shirt once more, sighing.
“And why are there blue and pink balloons?”
Carter frowns. “What do you mean? It’s a gender reveal.”
“Exactly right, Carter; it’s a gender reveal. How do you reveal the gender of one baby when you have balloons filled with blue, and balloons filled with pink?”
His jaw dangles. “Oh, shit.” He snaps his mouth closed. “No. I mean, what? No, yeah, for sure, and that’s why we actually have a, uh… a… a…”
“A mega balloon?” Adam offers, brows raised while he waits to see if I approve. “One giant balloon that the guys are gonna fill with the right color, and set aside.” He looks to his friends, nodding. “Right, guys?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Uh-huh, that’s it.”
“For sure. That’s for sure what the plan was.”
If I roll my eyes any harder, someone will need to collect them off the ground. “And you!” I point at Adam. “You allowed this?”
“I—I—I…” His scared eyes ping around the yard for an excuse. He points at Carter. “It was his idea!”
Carter guffaws, throwing his arms above his head. “Oh, sure. Every time we get in trouble, suddenly the bad idea was mine!” When Garrett snickers, Carter shoves a finger in his face. “Your idea was confetti bombs filled with confetti dicks in pink or blue!”
Jaxon chuckles. “Confetti dicks at a wedding. You’re such a donkey.”
Garrett jabs his shoulder. “Better than your idea, you douchewaffle.”
“What’s wrong with a little pyrotechnics?”
“Oh, I dunno.” Garrett gets in Jaxon’s face, bumping his chest against his. “Maybe the fact that this house backs onto a fucking forest, and I’m not interested in being arrested on arson charges.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we have a million water balloons, then,” Jaxon mutters, right before he picks one up, squashing it over Garrett’s blond head.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter as blue water drenches his face, his shirt. My eyes roll to the sky, and I cross my arms over my chest, tapping my finger on my bicep as I wait for the inevitable. “Five, four, three…”
All five boys collide in a fury of flailing limbs, battle cries echoing as balloons fly and bodies dive. Every head in the yard turns to watch the commotion, and for the life of me, I can’t bring myself to look for Rosie, to see the horror and disappointment in her eyes.
I storm over to Deacon and Bev, Adam’s parents, and Holly, Carter and Jennie’s mom, standing next to Axel, the team’s general manager and Holly’s boyfriend. “You. All of you. You’re in charge of these… these… these things.”
Holly sips at her tequila sunrise, shaking her head adamantly. “Nope. Not me. Carter did not get that behavior from me.”
Axel cuts her a disbelieving glance. “Holly, angel, you’re not fooling anyone with that line.
” He tips his beer back. “Cara, I’d love to help you, but I’m off the clock.
Further”—he points out Emmett with his beer bottle, and I watch as my man leaps on Jaxon’s back—“you married him. He’s your problem. ”
I sweep my arms out, wide eyes directed at Deacon and Bev. “Adam’s supposed to be the brains of this group.”
Deacon grins as Adam pins a shrieking Garrett to the ground. “Get him, Adam!”
Groaning, I toss my arms in the air. “Must I do everything myself?” I storm my way across the yard, thumb and finger in my mouth as I whistle. “Hey! Children!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of white. My stomach dips with dread.
“Rosie! No!”
Soft green eyes come to mine, lighting with alarm, and she skids to a halt.
But it’s too late.
I watch in utter horror as Carter scoops up a particularly loaded balloon right before he hurls himself onto Adam’s back, arm around his neck. Adam hollers, spinning, trying to toss Carter off his back.
It happens in slow motion. Carter’s grip loosens as Adam bucks one last time. The balloon soars through the air, and all sixty sets of eyes in this backyard follow its path as it heads straight for…
“No!” I shriek, running faster than I ever thought I would, arms out wide. I dive in front of Rosie, but I’m a split second too early.
I skid across the grass as the balloon hits Rosie square in the stomach, splattering her pristine ivory dress in bubblegum pink.
The boys fall to a heaving pile on the grass as I scramble to my feet, speechless, truly, for the first time in my life.
Rosie stands there with her arms wide, looking down at her once white dress, on her wedding day. The boys have the good sense to look downright ashamed, petrified for their lives as they stand.
“Rosie…” Adam whispers, approaching her slowly, his expression drenched in despair as she scoops up a stray balloon, looking from it to him. “I’m so sor—”