Chapter 35 #2
“That’ll be them,” Max says, already heading for the hallway.
“I can already hear Lucas arguing with someone,” I mutter, just as the door opens and the full force of Storm & Silence spills into the penthouse like a cheerful natural disaster.
Lucas is first, giving Max a hug. “We come bearing gifts and absolutely no boundaries,” he announces, brandishing a pizza box like a trophy.
Annie sweeps in behind him—black boots, glossy hair, and enough attitude to power a small city. “Where’s the mama-to-be?”
Max nods toward me. “Go easy on her, okay?”
“I’m pregnant, not allergic to people,” I call back, laughing.
Lucas makes a beeline for the kitchen with the pizza, muttering something about being lied to regarding garlic knots, while DeShawn follows with a six-pack tucked under one arm.
They all funnel toward me like I’m the sun and they’re a pack of wonderfully chaotic planets. Annie gets to me first, pulling me into a hug and presenting a silver gift bag with a dramatic little flourish.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say, touched.
“We did,” Lucas says from behind her. “And we fought about it for an hour. This was the least likely to start a fire.”
I tug out the tissue paper, already grinning. The first item is a onesie—soft, pale yellow, and absolutely perfect. Bold black letters declare:
“Band’s Cutest Member.”
I burst out laughing. “Oh my god.”
“Wait,” Annie says, digging back in with a gleam in her eye. “There’s more.”
She pulls out a tiny black bandana. Embroidered in silver thread:
“Lead Meowcalist.”
I look down at Melody, who chooses that exact moment to blink at us with disdain, like she knows we’re planning something deeply undignified for her future.
My laughter wobbles, and suddenly I’m blinking fast. “You guys…”
“Don’t you dare cry,” Lucas says, pointing at me dramatically. “We are not equipped for tears and I’m emotionally fragile.”
“I blame the hormones,” I sniff, wiping at my eyes with the sleeve of Max’s shirt. “This is… really, really sweet.”
Annie leans in for another gentle hug, her bracelet clinking softly against my arm. “You’re stuck with us now, sweetheart. Might as well lean into it.”
And just like that, the room bursts into warm, familiar chaos—debates over shelf placement, someone shouting about Allen wrenches, someone else insisting mobiles are a scam.
I glance at Max. He’s already watching me, that soft, quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth—the one that gets me every time.
Yeah.This is home.
***
We’re halfway through hanging the mobile above the crib—an objectively perfect little masterpiece featuring cartoon kittens playing instruments—when I feel… it.
Not a kick.
Not a Braxton Hicks.
Something… wetter.
I freeze mid-reach, one hand clutching the string of a tambourine cat, and stare down at the floor.
“Max?” I say, very calmly. Very dangerously. “Either I just peed myself—or my water just broke.”
The mobile hits the rug with a dull clatter. Max stares at me like I’ve just announced the ceiling is collapsing. Then—belatedly—he jumps into action.
“What? Now?! Are you sure? Are you sure-sure?!” His voice keeps rising like it’s auditioning for a falsetto solo.
“Yes now!” I grip the dresser. “This is not a drill!”
He starts spinning in a circle. “Okay. Okay. Shoes. Hospital bag. Where’s your phone? Why is the cat circling the puddle?! Melody, no!”
That’s when the nursery door bursts open and Lucas appears with a roll of bubble wrap. “Why is everyone yelling? Did someone drop the—OH MY GOD.”
DeShawn’s head pops around the corner. “Is the baby crowning?”
“NO, IT’S NOT CROWNING!” I snap. My voice sounds feral. I might be foaming at the mouth. Unclear.
Annie ambles in like we’re prepping for a barbecue, holding a pizza slice in one hand and a wrench in the other. “I could drive.”
“No,” Lucas says immediately, already thumbing open a rideshare app. “You once reversed into a streetlamp while trying to park at Taco Bell.”
“Looked fine from my angle.”
“Cab,” Lucas insists.
And that’s how, ten frantic minutes later, I find myself riding shotgun in a yellow taxi, doing the kind of deep breathing I’d previously only seen in prenatal yoga videos.
The guys and Annie are packed in the back like high-strung luggage, and the driver—poor soul—looks like he’s two heartbeats away from quitting his job.
“I-Is this your wife?” he asks Max, eyes darting between us in the mirror.
“Yes,” Max says without hesitation.
“And them?”
“Support group,” Annie says, deadly serious.
“Emotional sponsors,” DeShawn chimes in, nodding sagely.
Lucas leans forward like he’s giving life-or-death instructions. “Drive like the wind, sir. But gently. Like a… like a meadow breeze. You are the breeze.”
The driver nods like he’s been handed the nuclear codes.
“Don’t push yet!” Annie calls helpfully from the back. “I watched three YouTube videos and none of them included taxis!”
I grip the door handle and hiss, “I am not pushing! But if any of you so much as breathe too loudly again, I will rain destruction upon you.”
The taxi veers slightly.
DeShawn is rummaging through the glove box.
“There’s a first aid kit in here,” he announces. “And gum. Do we need gum?”
Lucas grabs Max’s shoulder. “Max. If you pass out, I will slap you awake.”
“I’m not going to pass out.”
“You almost passed out when Melody got vaccinated.”
“That was a deeply emotional day!”
The taxi screeches to a stop outside the hospital.
Max launches himself out and yanks my door open like he’s auditioning for a medical drama. I swing my legs out slowly, groaning through a contraction.
“There better be a wheelchair,” I mutter.
Lucas whistles as he hops out. “Band’s biggest gig yet.”
Annie dabs her eyes. “They grow up so fast.”
DeShawn grabs the hospital bag. Lucas grabs the snacks.
And just like that, we rush inside—me, Max, and three gloriously unhinged humans who’ve somehow become our family—leaving behind one upside-down mobile and an apartment full of chaos.