Chapter 22
“Don’t ask me why there are so many boxes. I think I blacked out from the joy of finding them in bulk.” Dove leans on three giant packing boxes that tower nearly to her height, each stuffed with mini boxes of my favorite food in the world—Lucky Charms.
Unfortunately, my stomach roils at the thought of all that toasted, sugary oat and marshmallowy goodness. Baby bean, as Hunter has so affectionately taken to calling our child, has decided they are not a fan of my treasured cereal.
Cereal has a long shelf life if it’s unopened, right?
She high-fives the random teenager she grabbed from the sidewalk to carry them in and slips him a twenty. “Thanks, my man.”
In a nasally tone, with an expression that suggests he’s adding her to his mental spank bank, he flashes a grin around a mouthful of braces. “No problem, Miss. Anytime.”
He lingers, staring dreamily, until finally her smile drops and she jerks her head toward the door. “Okay, kid. Off you go.”
Once the door shuts behind him, she spins back to me. “Aren’t you excited? These are all Lucky Charms! I got the haul for, like, I don’t know—less than fifty bucks.”
“Thank you. What a steal.” I force a smile and bite back a wave of nausea.
It’s lessened lately—the sudden need to vomit if a smell or the sight of a particular food doesn’t agree with my stomach’s definition of appetizing—but the sickness always lingers in the deep trenches of my belly, ready to rear its ugly head whenever it wants.
Have I mentioned how much I hate throwing up?
My best friend beams, utterly unaffected by my less-thrilled-than-I-should-be composure. “I know, right?” She flips her long blonde waves over her shoulder and starts unpacking her Barbie pink tote. “Let’s crack one of these bad boys open and get to picture-taking for the book club.”
Shrugging—though her attention is on the haul of faux greenery she brought—I place the mini cereal box back in the bigger one and move to the cabinets to see where I have space to store them. My first thought is the basement, but all those stairs…
And it’s not like I can ask Hunter to take them down there. I want him as far away from my basement as possible.
“I’m okay for right now. I’m not that hungry, and I don’t want it to go to waste.”
Silence permeates the room like an onion as soon as you peel back the skin.
Suffocating, with an in-your-face aroma that clogs your airway and makes your eyes burn—only instead of a foul odor doing the choking, it’s that eerie, icy feeling people talk about when they think a presence is haunting them.
The kind that smothers you and steals the breath from your lungs.
Looking over my shoulder, I yelp when I find my best friend directly behind me. I didn’t even hear her cross the kitchen. “Jesus, Love Dove! Are you trying to scare the shit out of me?”
Her brilliant blue eyes narrow as she appraises me head to toe. “Something is different about you.”
If a sweatdrop could form on my forehead in real life, it would—it’s an anime thing.
Heaving a nervous chuckle, I edge around her. “What are you talking about?”
Why is this so hard? Just tell her already. Hunter is telling Wrenley, and she’s going to be pissed if her boyfriend finds out before she does.
Hands on her hips, she pivots with me, keeping us face to face as we step in a half circle.
“I know we haven’t been spending as much time together, but don’t think I haven’t noticed, Buns.
You’re wearing less leather, you’re no longer participating in our extracurriculars as frequently, and I saw the box from Aux Merveilleux de Fred in your trash.
Hunter’s been here. And you haven’t been filling me in on all the juicy, dirty details! ”
Shit.
Sometimes I forget how perceptive Dove is.
“Are you two fucking? I swear to god, if you’ve been holding back—”
“I’m pregnant.” The words tumble out in a rushed, muddled phrase that’s barely intelligible. We both freeze in our face-off.
The bright white bow holding up half her hair bounces as she snaps straight, gaping. “I’m sorry, can you say that again? I think I misheard you.”
Sighing, I pop my hip as a hand drops to my newly distended belly.
Hunter says it’s getting more noticeable, which is why we finally decided to break the news to our friends.
I’m now unsure why we decided to do it separately instead of telling them together.
Yes, Dove and I have serial-killer things to discuss but having Hunter’s support while announcing our news for the first time is something I’m craving at the moment.
“I’m pregnant.”
Bubblegum-pink lips pop open in surprise once more. “I thought that’s what you said.”
A pregnant pause—pun intended—hangs between us before she shouts, “You’ve been Peter poisoned!”
The fuck?
My confusion must show because she sticks a finger in the air like a walking dictionary and recites, “Symptoms last nine months, after-effects for a lifetime.”
“I’m… so… huh?” I cant my head—then my bewilderment dissolves as she launches herself into my arms.
“I’m going to be a godmother! Oh my goodness, this is so exciting! Hunter is the father, right? I knew you two were fucking! You dirty bitch, holding out on me. How did this happen?”
Laughing, I pat the top of her head. “Well, sweet girl, when a man and a woman—”
“Don’t make me hurt you,” she jests, poking my belly softly. “What are we having?”
“You’re really okay with this?” I guess I thought… well, I don’t know what I thought. Some part of me felt like Dove would be upset I didn’t tell her sooner. Now I feel like she’s taking it too well.
A delicate blonde brow arches as her lips purse. “What do you mean?”
We abandon the book-club aesthetics and move to the living room, where the dogs happily gnaw on a new batch of dick jerky Dove brought. Fang’s once rainbow mane has faded back to pristine white, sandwiching Yasha between him and Maru, making them look like a reverse Oreo cookie.
Why do Lucky Charms sound bad but cookies sound great right now?
As we settle on the couch, my phone dings, and Dove snatches it up before I can grab it. “Oooh. Daddy wants to know if you need him to grab you snacks while he’s out with Wren.”
How does he always know what I need?
“Oh my god, don’t call him that.” I laugh as she gives my phone back, and I type out a quick request before setting it screen down. “As for earlier, I just meant that… I don’t know. This is a big change.”
My hands drift down absentmindedly, and I watch a smile spread across her pink lips before she leans over to place her strawberry-tipped fingers over mine. “Are you okay with this, Bunny?”
“Yes.” The answer is immediate, and her lips twitch knowingly. “Hunter is going to be an amazing dad. I just… I guess I wish we could’ve had some time together before this.” I gesture to my belly.
“Haven’t you? I know your relationship has been all sorts of unconventional since you met, but you’ve had time. You just spent it in secret with a lot of pent-up sexual tension. But neither of you has been with anyone else. You may as well have been in a relationship this whole time.”
“I guess. I don’t know—I’m having a hard time with the idea of being under a man’s control again. I still have issues with how stubborn he is about needing to hear me say I’ll give him my heart. It’s his way or the highway, and that scares me.”
“I don’t think Hunter means for it to be that way, Buns. I think he’s just as scared of you hurting him. He’s guarding his heart, too. Maybe if you both let down your walls, you’ll find you’ve already built a strong foundation that won’t crumble.”
Hearing it from her perspective solidifies my intention to move things forward with Hunter. It’s strange how sometimes we hear things from other people—even if they’re the things we’ve been telling ourselves all along—and it changes our entire outlook.
“Yeah, you’re right. But I’m telling you now, we aren’t disappearing into the relationship abyss like you and Wrenley.
You two have been neglecting your friendship duties, and while I admit I fucked up your birthday surprise, I refuse to let my life become all about Hunter. I don’t want to be dick-whipped.”
Playful shock dances across Dove’s face as she presses a hand to her chest. “I’m not dick-whipped! How dare you, missy.”
Canting my head, I flash a teasing smirk. “You spent months not publishing Wren’s articles because you didn’t want him romanticizing the Doll and then literally caved and published an article where he thanks her for your relationship like she’s some sort of serial-killer matchmaker.”
She grins and waggles her brows. “Wasn’t she?
Or me? It was I… You know what, never mind.
The point is it’s okay to get lost in him for a while.
You and Hunter have been heading down this path for a long time.
Maybe the baby part came early, but you were close to giving in.
You know you were. Hasn’t Hunter proven himself by now?
I know you love him, Buns. And I know why you’re holding back, but don’t you deserve to be happy?
Nathaniel’s been gone for a while. It’s time to move on.
Just because one man hurt you doesn’t mean they’re all like that.
It’s okay to be guarded, but it’s also okay to be vulnerable. ”
“No, you’re right. And I’m sorry. I’m just now realizing how rude that sounded about you and Wrenley.” They’ve gone through so much—they deserve to be happy. And once again, I’m dashing that happiness for no reason other than deflection.
“It’s okay. I know what you meant. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you lately. But look at it this way… it pushed you and Hunter closer together?” Her shoulders hitch suggestively as her inflection ticks upward.
“Are you and Wrenley thinking about having—”
“No.” The word is sharp, flying from her lips before I can finish my question. She rises and heads back toward the kitchen. “We’re both in strong agreement that we don’t want children. Our pasts are too sordid, and we don’t want that leaking into our parenting. We’re fine being fur parents.”
Following, I help her sort through our book-club aesthetic, then we bring everything back to a spot in front of one of the giant living-room windows that gets a lot of natural sunlight.
While we piece it together, she says, “I have new video footage for you whenever you have time to rip it apart and piece it back together. There’s no rush, and it will be the last video I send in for a while. ”
This piques my interest. “Did Wrenley go with you again?”
“We’re working on a way to make the operation run smoother—as in, what he can take care of without watching all the gruesome, bloody bits.
I think California was a one-off for him.
It was personal, so it was easier. If I have to keep cleaning up his puke, it might be enough to send me into early retirement. ”
Grabbing a silk rose, I hum in response, my mind drifting to my situation with Hunter as far as the Siren goes.
As if Dove can read my thoughts, she asks, “What are you going to do about the Siren?”
It’s a question I’ve been wondering myself.
“Obviously, I can’t keep going while pregnant.
However, I do have one more name on the list I’d like to terminate before taking a break.
Only thing is, he’s not back in town until close to Christmas.
By then, if Hunter and I make a go of this, I don’t know how I’m going to keep it from him. ”
“Do you even want to keep going? I can’t imagine it’ll be easy to sustain if you and Hunter move in together. Get married. Have more kids.” She sits back on her knees. “Not that I’m saying you have to do any of those things—it’s just something to think about.”
“No, I know. As far as those things go, I have no clue. Hunter’s never been in a hurry to find the Siren or the Doll.
We do what we do for a reason, and I don’t know if it’s something I can just give up.
” I touch my stomach again—something I’ve been doing often since finding out about baby bean.
“Baby comes first, obviously. I just think about the women I’ve helped and how many more there are out there. ”
Dove lays a hand on my forearm. “It’s not your burden to shoulder, Bunny. It’s okay to put your family first.”
All three dogs’ heads perk up moments before I hear the front door open. “Daddy’s home!” Hunter’s silky voice rings out.
Wrenley’s deeper baritone follows. “Oh, god. Make it stop. He’s been referring to himself as Daddy all day.”
Dove and I share a knowing look before getting up to greet them. Our conversation will have to resume later, and I’m more than happy to shelf the bitter discussion for another day.
Because right now, I want cookies.