Chapter 6
Grayson
“Are you surviving pregnancy?”
The question is a hushed whisper as I look side to side, ensuring my wife can’t hear me.
Brooks stares back at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I’ll chance him making fun of me all day if it means avoiding the ire of my pregnant wife.
“Well—I’m not pregnant, so—” Brooks says slowly like I’m an idiot he has to explain this to.
“I meant with your wife,” I deadpan.
He chuckles, acting carefree, but his frivolous glance around before he says, “Oh yeah, that is a beast of its own.” tells a whole other story.
“Are they always this—moody?”
Brooks’s face turns white as a ghost, and he grabs onto my arm and pulls me into his pantry, where we proceed to hide in the dark.
“What are you doing? Why are we hiding in a pantry?”
“Shh.” He shoves his fingers against my lips, and, using the crack of light at the bottom of the door, I watch him tilt his head and listen.
“Get off me, you fool,” I say, shoving at his hand. He moves it but drops it to my shoulder, keeping his face grave as he offers me sage advice.
“Don’t use the M word. Ever.”
His voice is barely a whisper, and if someone were to open the door, they would probably get a kick out of two grown men barely squeezed into a corner pantry. But I can’t bring myself to care because if he’s offering advice, I’m taking it—at least on this.
“Okay, but are they?”
“Yes.”
Brooks’s face is so serious you’d think we were discussing a plan for world peace instead of our wives’ attitudes. And yet, I listen just as closely.
“So what do we do?”
“You ride the wave. Her body is changing. She’s growing your baby. You give her grace until she feels like herself again.”
I nod, cataloging everything he is saying. “I can do that.”
“And, Gray—”
“What?”
“Make sure you date her. If there’s one thing I messed up the last time Emryn and I had a baby, it’s that I forgot to keep seeing her as my wife and best friend. Don’t make my mistake.”
Of everything he said, this one hits me the hardest. Brooks told me about his and Emryn’s struggle once. I wasn’t around then, but I know enough to know that I don’t want to go through the same thing with Georgia.
Lifting my hand, I clap Brooks on the shoulder. His hand still rests on mine, and as weird as this feels for me, I turn it into a hug. “I promise I’ll keep dating my wife.”
He hugs me back, and it’s at that exact moment that the pantry door opens.
“Well, I said I wanted my boys to get along, but I can’t say this is how I imagined it happening.”
Our dad stands in the doorway, light from the kitchen shining over his shoulder. He’s wearing a grin that says, “I’m going to tell everyone about this moment,” and has his phone in his hand, taking pictures to prove it.
Brooks and I back out of the hug, making eye contact with each other and having a whole conversation before turning to face our dad.
There was a time when I didn’t know either of these men, but now I can’t imagine my life without them.
“Delete the picture, Dad,” I say, advancing toward him with Brooks by my side.
He lifts his hands, playing innocent, but doesn’t move to delete it.
“Now, you boys listen here,” he says, backing up as we draw closer. “I’m your dad.”
“Delete the picture, Dad, and no one gets hurt,” Brooks says.
Dad chuckles, and then, faster than any old man should be able to, he takes off running with both Brooks and me on his heels.
______________________
“Grayson, why did your dad just send me a picture of you and Brooks hugging in a pantry?”
It’s two days after what I’m deeming “the incident,” and Brooks and I learned the hard way just how scrappy Kip Montgomery can be. I thought we had at least convinced him not to share the picture, but I guess I was wrong.
“Delete that,” I call back.
I’m outside, planning something that allows me to keep my promise to Georgia—or, technically, Brooks.
Georgia has been inside all day, sitting on the couch and working. I’ve noticed that she gets tired easily, so I’m glad she’s getting her rest where she can.
“I don’t think I will.” She snickers.
The patio door is open so I can hear her, but I step inside, finished with my task anyway.
She’s sitting on the couch where I left her earlier, hair hanging down her shoulders. When she hears me walking up behind her, she turns her head to look at me, and there’s a smile on her face that stops my heart inside my chest. She might not be able to see it, but she is glowing.
“Delete it, or you won’t get your surprise that I’ve been working on all day,” I say, bending over the back of the couch and kissing along her neck. Her skin pebbles beneath my lips, and a shiver runs across her spine. I smile against her shoulder, loving knowing how much I affect her.
“You don’t play fair.” Her voice comes out as a breathy whisper as she tilts her head, allowing me better access to her neck to kiss her.
“All’s fair in love and war, Peach, and that picture is war.”
She snorts. “What was even happening in that picture?”
“Strategy, Peach. We were talking strategy.”
She snorts again, pulling away from me and turning on the couch so she is sitting backward on her knees, facing me.
“What kind of strategy?” she asks, wrapping her arms around my neck.
I pull her into my chest, holding her close as I lift her up and over the back of the couch, and when she is standing in front of me, wrapped in my arms, I lean down and whisper in her ear, “I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you. And you’re too pretty to take out.”
Her hand comes up off my neck, slapping me on the back of the head.
“Hey,” I cry. “What was that for?”
Looking up at me, she smiles. It’s bright and beautiful, making her eyes sparkle, and my chest feels like it could burst with the amount of love I have for this woman.
“For trying to blackmail me. The picture stays—and I get whatever surprise you’ve been working on all day in the backyard.”
I bite down, flexing the muscle in my jaw to try and hide my smile. “Are we negotiating?”
“What do you think?” she asks blandly, dropping her smile into a blank expression.
I can’t lie. She’s a little scary when she looks at me like that.
“I think we should go see what’s in the backyard.”
Patting my cheek like an overly affectionate grandma, she says, “Good choice.”
With a quick peck to her lips, I grab her hand and turn around so she can’t see my eye roll. Sometimes, I wonder if she’s psychic, though, because I no more than get my eyes back into their proper place when she says, “Grayson Lewis, don’t you roll your eyes at me.”
“You’re going to make a great mom. You’ve already got the sixth sense down pat,” I say, smiling back at her as I pull her along with me to the back patio door.
But she plants her feet and tugs against my hand. Stopping, I spin, so I’m facing her again. Worry marks the lines on her face as she chews on her bottom lip.
“What?” I ask, stepping toward her and brushing her hair back from her face. “What did I say?”
She shakes her head, clearing her throat, and tears glisten on her lashes when she looks up at me. “Do you really think I’ll make a good mom?”
That fear plays across her face, and I can tell it’s a question that’s been on her mind. But what I don’t understand is why.
Georgia loves deeply, and she takes care of the people she loves. So, where this fear is coming from, I can’t say.
“Peach, of course, you’re going to make a great mom. There was never a question on my mind about that.”
Her teeth dig deeper into her lip, worrying it until I reach up and gently tug it loose. “I don’t know. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for weeks. What if I don’t get this motherhood thing right? This is someone’s life we are talking about. What if I royally mess it up?”
“Look at me,” I say, lifting her chin. “Do you think I don’t worry about being a dad?
People say I tend to be grumpy, and there are so many ways I don’t know how to be a dad because I didn’t have that growing up.
But we will figure it out together, Peach.
If Brooks can raise a kid, surely we can’t mess this up too badly.
” The poke at my brother gets a grin out of her just like I knew it would.
It’s a little wobbly, but it’s there. “We might not get it perfect, but this baby will be loved. And honestly, I think love is all you need to get it right.”
“I love you, Grayson. I hope you know that.”
I press a kiss to her forehead before giving her a cheeky grin. “I do.”