EPILOGUE #4
“Hey, girls,” he chirps, addressing us both before cutting our brief greetings off by pulling me close, planting a cold, miniature water bottle in my hand, and launching into an interrogation about what I’ve eaten.
I set an irked gaze on him while pointedly gulping the entire contents of said bottle and passing the empty back to him with a contrived smile.
It goes without saying that my husband will be neurotic about, well, anything concerning me or his baby.
But it’s plain that all of these men are going to be intolerable for the next six months, and once he or she arrives, they’ll probably make my parents’ helicopter parenting look like neglect.
Frustrating, but I love it. It’s exactly what my father would have wanted.
Leaning into Ty’s embrace, I keep my voice low so only he can hear. “I’m good. Promise. But you all need to chill out. I’m terrified you’re all going to croon ‘Goodnite, Sweetheart, Goodnite’ at my stomach. Won’t be much of a secret then.”
He chuckles. “Right. Four men,” he quips, confirming he picked up the Three Men and a Baby reference. “Sorry, Freckles. It’s been a big day.” He pecks my temple and straightens, the taut strain of his voice and expression surrendering to a feigned casualness. “What are you girls up to?”
“Rescuing Rena,” Celeste supplies, her eyes devouring the handsome Noire brothers, who are heatedly conducting their own interrogation.
Ty scans the scene, but his gaze lingers on a softer, spunkier Noire. “Yeah, you should. They’ve been fighting all day. She was supposed to bring a date, but he—”
“Was unexpectedly delayed,” I finish. “We’ve heard the rant. Give us some girl time, okay? Distract Rena’s guards and my husband until fireworks.”
Ty’s the easiest with my pleas, although the guys have been chastising him for it lately, so it’s more challenging than it used to be.
His eyes fling between Celeste and me, Wells and Liam, to Rena, and back. “I’ll run interference, but be good.”
I howl incredulously, eyebrows pinched tight. “We’re at home, hosting a party. What the hell would I do?” Before he can think about it, I kiss his cheek with a chaste, “Thanks,” and scurry off, arm in arm with Celeste.
“Oh, we need some fucking girl talk all right.” She balks. “I’ve got questions, bestie.”
“Hold them until we grab Rena,” I say out of the side of my mouth, right as I plant myself before Ryker and Axel with petitioning eyes. “Can we steal her?” I link my free arm with Rena’s. United we stand.
Axel flashes his customary pearly grin. It’s all charisma and charm for the reigning debauchery king of New Orleans. “You ladies look lovely tonight. Great party, Ivy.”
“Thanks, Axel. I’m glad you all made it for at least a bit.” My eyes set on Ryker. “So?”
He and I have struck both a respect for one another and a friendship since we moved here.
“Sure.” His glacial blues swirl with a tender warmth. He’s been privy to some of my struggles, and much like my guys, he’s harbored some uncharacteristic guilt and worry. “You good?”
I nod. He’s nearly as sweet as my four guys these days too. “Better,” I assure him .
His smile is wistful and pensive as he shoves his hands in his pockets on an exhale. “Good.” He kicks his chin toward Rena. “See if you can stamp out the defiance in my little pest here.”
“Might be easier if you come up with a new term of endearment,” I gibe.
“It fits,” he deadpans. “You and Wells are coming on Monday, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I call out as we drag Rena away before he can change his mind.
Wells and I have been lunching with Ryker and Axel on Mondays since the move. I hang with Rena afterward while they discuss guy stuff and gruesome subjects I prefer to claim plausible deniability on.
As I haul the girls to the house so we can have some privacy, I commend Rena. “You are getting so much better. You didn’t interrupt once to get a jab in, and see, I got you outta there lickety-split.”
“It isn’t in my nature, but I can’t deny it’s more efficient.
” She bleats a humorous laugh. “I’m at my wits’ end.
I know they fucking did something. Nick was all set to come, and now, he’s ghosting me.
Makes no sense. I’m piercing my clit. And then I’m going to describe it to them until their ears bleed. ”
“Ouch.” I shiver at the thought and briefly consider it. No. “Do not pierce anything down there. I’m working on them. You have to give me time.” I’m sure that’s little consolation, but Rena’s proclivity for poking holes in her body is dizzying.
“So, what?” Celeste chimes. “They expect you to never date anyone? How does that make sense?”
“Apparently, they’ll be fine with her dating when they find someone suitable,” I explain, repeating the essence of the lengthy excuse Axel and Ryker provided when I last chastised them about it.
“There will never be anyone suitable.” Rena throws a dejected hand into the air as we meander around some empty lounge chairs on the flagstone patio and enter the morning room through the sliding glass doors.
The scent of seared meat and vegetables wafts inside with us from the grill Gage is manning.
Rena’s shoulders slump with a grumbled, “I’ll be an old hag with a houseful of hissing brothers instead of cats. ”
“No way we’re letting that happen,” I promise. I’ve been easing them into granting Rena more freedom. It’s much like feeding a baby with the airplane method. Sometimes, they spit out everything I offer. Good practice. “Kitchen or library?” I ask.
“Kitchen has alcohol,” Celeste reasons to which Rena whoops.
To the kitchen we go.
Aside from the stunning two-story library Wells crafted me—fit with French doors, a rolling ladder, a Juliet balcony, and all the coziness a massive, country-chic reading room should embody—the kitchen is my favorite room in the house.
Liam and I worked tirelessly with a decorator to create the same vibe as we had in Ohio but with two large islands—one with a bar top for eating and one for prep work; it’s far more functional and capable of being home to many.
While we still have a chef who preps a lot of freezer meals for us, the guys and I do quite a bit of cooking.
Our time has been so special in this home, even amid the difficult days.
They’ve come through for me, shining brighter than the glint on the stainless steel fridge in a time that’s been as dark as the black siding on the island.
The kitchen is a beautiful representation of who our family is and who we will grow to become.
I hold up a bottle of Grey Goose vodka, and the girls both murmur approval, so I snatch the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and grab three glasses.
I’ve already gone to battle with Celeste about alcohol today, using Wells not wanting us to be intoxicated at our own party as an excuse.
A fraying thread of truth. His penance for making me lie was to join me in sobriety.
Liam ran to the store this morning and stocked him a pantry full of Skittles and Tootsie Pops. We’ll have to see how long that holds.
“I could work on persuading Axel if you’d like.” Celeste indulges in a hefty swig of her drink while waggling her dark brows, ready and willing to sink her teeth into a juicy Noire.
“Off-limits,” Rena snaps, finger pointed in warning, fiery green-hazel eyes aghast.
I cackle with a clap of my hands. “Look who’s cockblocking now.”
“Different,” Rena spits defensively. “Axel is the closest thing I have to a father.” She turns toward Celeste, her eyes more pleading than angry now. “You wouldn’t want me seducing your dad, would you?”
“Fair point,” Celeste concedes with a shiver. “My parents are happily married, but the thought is enough to drive the point home. Nauseating.” Her eyes crease with a cautious tease. “What about the younger ones?”
Always on the prowl. It’s her way of hiding from all that scares her, but I’m not sure she’s conscious of that.
I slide a vegetable tray onto the counter, along with some other munchies that are prepped for later. The main food tables are outside and in the morning room, but Celeste might need something to curb her hunger while the alcohol flows.
Rena mellows, propping her temple against her fist while lazily hunched over the island beside Celeste.
“Ryker is off-limits too, for countless reasons. And he’s a gigantic pain in the ass.
It wouldn’t matter about the rest. None of them do relationships.
Only sex. Phenomenal role models and probably the reason I’m not allowed to date.
” She flaps a hand while raising her glass to her mouth.
“Anyway, what I don’t know won’t ruffle me. ”
Celeste twirls a strand of her long, dark hair, but it’s her nefarious expression that catches me. No doubt her mind is in salacious places. “I don’t do serious either. Not like our girl here, who seems to be nailing down four cocks.”
I choke on my lemonade, coughing and sputtering and wishing the burn in my chest were from a sip of Wells’s scotch. “What’s that supposed to mean? ”
“Ivy,” Celeste scoffs, “you’re clearly holding out. This is some why-choose shit if I’ve ever seen one.”
“You’re fucking high, Lettie,” I snipe, lobbing a dish towel across the island at her.
“Have you met my husband? He’d shoot them for even imagining it.
” The weight of how that would even work crashes into me with an agonizing throb between my thighs.
“And I have no idea how any woman manages that in real life. Four men? Wells is on top of me constantly, day and night. I can always feel him, like a phantom limb, and that’s when he’s holding back, concerned I need rest.”