Chapter 22 #2
“But all the shit with Kai?” Nix continues. “That you kept quiet for years? Those were bad secrets, Bea. Secrets that could have gotten you hurt or even killed. And by the time I found out what was going on, the dark shit was so far along, and I felt so helpless and scared and—”
“I know,” Beatrice cuts in. “You’re right.
And I’m sure that’s where I learned it was better to hide things I wasn’t one hundred percent ready to share.
With Kai. I had to be armed and ready to micro-manage everything with him, and even then, he might explode.
But this wasn’t like that, Baylor, I promise.
It’s not that I didn’t trust you or Charlotte.
Or Mom and Dad. I was just overwhelmed and stressed, and I fell back into bad habits without even thinking about it.
But I’m committed to doing better in the future.
I’m going to find a therapist and learn how to confront things in a healthy, grown-up way, and I…
I just…” She lifts her hands at her sides, fingers spread wide.
“I don’t know. I’m going to woman up and stop being an avoidant little shit-weasel, I guess. ”
Nix studies her for a beat before he agrees, “You are an avoidant little shit-weasel.”
Bea nods. “I know. I’m not asking you to say I’m not. I’m just asking for another chance to be your sister. And your friend.”
Nix exhales, his lips twitching. “Are you fucking crazy? Of course, you’re my sister and my friend. Always. I unconditionally love you, brat.”
“I unconditionally love you, too,” Beatrice says, tearing up as Nix slides off his chair and strides around the island, pulling her into a big hug.
She wraps her arms around his neck, her voice muffled by his chest as she adds, “I’m really sorry.
And don’t be mad at Blue. He wanted to tell you a hundred times, but I made him promise he wouldn’t, because I’m very bossy. ”
Nix laughs. “You are very bossy. Especially for a runt. So much bossiness in such a tiny package.” Finally, he meets my gaze over Bea’s head. “But clearly, you’re a fan of getting your shit rocked by a woman half your size, huh, Blue?”
“Big fan,” I say without missing a beat, making them all laugh. When it dies down, I add, “But I’m sorry, too. I crossed lines that shouldn’t have been crossed, at least not the way I crossed them.”
Nix’s brows lift. “By forgetting to use a condom, you mean? Yeah, pretty big oversight, asshole.”
Beatrice pulls away from their embrace, pinching his stomach. “Stop, it’s not his fault. It’s mine. I was so ravenously horny, I barely gave him a chance to cry out for help before I tackled him like a velociraptor hunting a—”
“Ew, stop!” Nix covers his ears, wincing. “I don’t want to hear about my little sister’s horniness. Especially not like that. Now you’ve gone and ruined my memories of playing velociraptors when we were kids.”
Beatrice rolls her eyes. “I have not. You’ll be fine. We’ll stay out of each other’s sex lives from now on and forget that Charlotte Baylor Blue Nix was ever not a completely planned pregnancy.”
Charlotte pulls in a sharp breath. “Oh, Bea. Really?”
“And we’ve decided to call her Charlie,” I say, loving the way Bea’s eyes dance at the private joke. Our little Charlie, who we’ll love to the ends of the earth, even if she looks like a cartoon with a potato face.
Charlotte fans her hands in front of her eyes. “I’m not going to cry. I’m not.”
“I might,” Nix says, crossing the room and wrapping me up in a hug so fast and tight, I grunt in surprise. “Love you, brother. I know I don’t have to tell you to be good to my little sister or I’ll kill you, but…you know.”
I nod, patting his back as best I can with my arms pinned to my sides. “I know. You don’t have to worry. I’d rather cut my own hands off.”
“Stop with the violent imagery,” Charlotte says, bustling past us. “Men. Always with the killing and cutting off of body parts. No one needs to hurt anyone or themselves. We’re all friends here, and I bet we’re all starving. How about chicken curry?”
Beatrice moans hungrily. “Yes, please. I love your chicken curry. I’ll cut the veggies.”
“I’ll start the rice cooker,” Nix says, releasing me with a sigh.
“Blue, could you check the garden to see if we still have any cilantro holding on out there?” Charlotte asks as she fetches the chicken from the fridge. “If there’s any left, it’ll be at the far right of the herb garden.”
And just like that, we’re back to being friends again.
Back to being family.
The knowledge that Charlotte and Nix will always be a part of my life, even after my days in the NHL are over, sends a warm rush through my chest. The warmth follows me out to the garden, where I stand for a moment, looking up at the stars blinking on in the sky, thanking all the good forces in the universe to be right here, right now.
With my family, my girl, and a chance to learn how to love even harder, just around the corner.
Three months later
The album, which has been hovering in the top ten since its release in late December, hits number one in January—just weeks before the Super Bowl, which happens to be in New Orleans this year.
That last social-media push, aimed at folks already excited about heading to The Big Easy for the big game, turns out to be worth every hour I spent learning how to go viral with Capo.
Beatrice gets the call from Marcus at six a.m. on a Friday, just as I’m helping her emerge from the nest of support pillows she now needs to get even a few hours of sleep.
Vespers from the Fire Born is number one on the Billboard Chart, and six of the thirteen tracks are still in the top ten on all the major streaming platforms.
We celebrate with hot chocolate with extra whipped cream, me standing behind Beatrice at the kitchen island, holding up her belly so she can have a few moments of relief from the weight of the increasingly gigantic Charlie.
She’s a week overdue, with no sign of labor in sight, but was already in remarkably good spirits for a woman this pregnant, even before we got the good news.
The number one has her positively glowing as Clover emerges from her bedroom an hour later, leaning on her cane, but getting around well for a girl who had two giant glasses of port while watching Pitch Perfect with us last night.
Beatrice tells her the news, and she explodes with happiness, hugging Bea so hard that they both tumble onto the couch, laughing their heads off.
Next, we call Nix, Charlotte, and Bea’s mom and dad, who are staying in Char’s guest room, awaiting the birth of their first grandbaby.
Nix insists on throwing a party to celebrate on Sunday.
Charlotte insists we should do it tomorrow, instead, since Beatrice is already overdue, and might not make it to Sunday.
Nix sees the wisdom in this call, and they dive into last-minute party prep mode. Meanwhile, Beatrice’s mom takes her shopping for something festive to wear, seeing as she’s outgrown everything but her stretchiest maternity pants and my sweaters.
I take advantage of the brief time apart to swing by Lost Magnolia Jewelry, now doing a brisk business in the retail space beneath my old apartment.
I rented both spaces to Charlotte’s friend, Veronica, when I moved in with Beatrice in November.
Veronica was looking for a combo live-and-work situation in my part of the French Quarter, and the pieces fell seamlessly into place.
And when I saw the witchy kind of jewelry she makes…
Well, it’s hard not to see the hand of Fate in all of this.
I collect the custom pendant Veronica and I designed for Bea’s “new mama” present, then head home to pick up my girlfriend, who’s looking even more striking than usual in a long, dark blue spandex dress with tiny sparkles all over it.
Bea looks like she’s wearing the night sky.
I tell her as much, and she sighs, “Thank you, but this look is not complete. I had to wear tennis shoes. I’m too enormous for cute shoes now, even my ballet slippers.” She glances down, trying and failing to see her feet past her belly. “Can you see them at the bottom of the dress?”
I shake my head. “Nope. You look foxy and magical.”
She glances back up at me with a grin. “Magical enough for you to stand behind me and hold up my belly all night?”
I take her hand, promising, “They won’t be able to get a shot of you without some weirdo in the background, dead-lifting your guts.”
She giggles. “That’s okay, I like that weirdo. He’s pretty great. My back really appreciates his service. I’m eventually going to go into labor, right? No woman has ever been pregnant forever.”
“Never, not in the history of the world,” I assure her.
But honestly, I’m starting to wonder what her doctor is thinking.
My girl is very, very pregnant.
And I can testify to how heavy Charlie is getting. I’m a pro athlete, and even my shoulders start to burn ten minutes into holding Beatrice’s belly in the air. I can’t imagine how her tiny body is going to be able to bear up under the strain much longer.
At Nix’s, the party is already in full swing by the time Beatrice and I head up the front walk.
Clover, who caught a ride with Bea’s mom earlier, after their shopping trip, is already ensconced on the front porch, jamming with a few of our musician friends.
Her leg is taking longer to heal than her doctor hoped, but her arm is much better, and she can finally play again.
She’s still building up her stamina, but her fretwork is as on-point as ever, with an added layer of soul that wasn’t there before.
As we cross the porch, her bass sings a smoky bayou song, setting the tone for the party inside.