Chapter 42
Chapter forty-two
Twenty-four Weeks
“I’m telling you—that screw was a spare. I didn’t misread shit!” Mason protests as we walk down the hallway and back to the main living area.
The whole family is gathered at mine and Isabelle’s tonight to finalise wedding details, while my brothers and Joe help me build all the furniture in the nursery.
“You better hope not. My daughter will be sleeping in that crib.”
Mason scoffs. “I would never put my niece in harm’s way.”
We make it to the dining room, where everyone else is. Mum and Jennie are sitting together, flipping through a bridal magazine. Lex and Isabelle’s sisters are huddled over a laptop. Beth, of course, is standing at the head of the table, a giant whiteboard behind her and a pointer stick in her hand.
I head straight to Isabelle, where she sits at the end, one hand rubbing her belly. Her engagement ring sparkles under the light. My heart does a little dance every time I see it on her finger.
I lean down to kiss her forehead. “How’s everything going in here?”
“We’re still trying to pick a colour for the bridesmaids, but apart from that, everything’s decided.” She smiles.
“It’s going to be a beautiful wedding,” Grams says from the kitchen, where she’s finishing up dinner. Dad and Grandpa stand at the counter, helping with the side dishes.
Mason drops into one of the seats at the dining table. “So, are you gonna wear white, Iz, cos isn’t that considered virginal? And, well…” He chuckles, looking pointedly at Isabelle’s stomach.
“I think I’m going to go with something vintage,” she says with a laugh.
“Are you gonna make Gage wear actual dress shoes?” Mase asks.
Caleb drops his head back with a groan, then pushes his glasses on top of his head and clasps his hands together. “Please, I beg you. Tom Ford is destined for greater than your manky, old boots.”
“Actually,” Beth says as she starts to make room on the dining table for dinner, “Izzy found these cute personalised wedding sneakers where you can get your names or vows printed on them. Since she’ll be heavily pregnant, we thought these would be both cute and comfortable.”
“I was thinking of having this added to them.” Isabelle shifts a notepad in front of me where she’d been doodling. There’s a little sketch of two pinky fingers linked and the word forever.
“Baby, I love this.”
“Yeah?” She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling, and those cute little dimples popping.
“It’s perfect.” I kiss her forehead.
“How sweet,” Mason says, grimacing in discomfort as he twists in his chair.
“What is wrong with you? You’ve been sitting like that all week.” Beth scrunches her nose at Mason.
“Like what?” he asks.
“Like you’ve got a broom shoved up your arse.”
Quiet laughter fills the room, and I lean down to Jennie. “I apologise for my sister.”
“Excuse you.” Beth scoffs. “I’m not sorry for the way I am, and you shouldn’t be either.”
Mason snorts. “Try working with her. It happens more often than you think.”
“You wanna go, mama’s boy?” Beth puts down the pointer stick.
“Pretty sure you’re in your luteal phase, so I’ll pass. I’d hate to make you cry.”
The whole table watches as Beth’s jaw drops. If she could maim someone with her eyes, I’m pretty sure Mason would be toast right now.
“Do we want to know how you’re so aware of our sister’s cycle?” Caleb asks, with his arms wrapped around Lex’s middle, where she sits on his lap.
“I learnt quickly after we started working together. I have my calendar marked out so I’m appropriately prepared with tea, painkillers, and heat packs.”
“I hope your painkillers are in full supply,” Beth says, one eye twitching.
“Beth’s right, though, you have looked a bit uncomfortable this week, Mase,” Grandpa calls from the kitchen.
Mason’s eyes dart around the table, coming back to me every few seconds.
“Why do you keep looking at me? I didn’t do anything.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. “You kinda did.”
“Would you care to enlighten me?” I enunciate every word so my eggheaded brother understands.
Mason leans over the table, furiously whispering, “You and your relationship advice.”
“Make more sense, you dick!”
“Yes, entirely right. My poor dick.”
“Mason Luke, we have company,” Mum says with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, and no one wants to know about your dick,” Beth says, looking nauseated.
Mason glares at our sister. “No one will for six months to a year.” His eyes fly to mine now. One green, one blue, both full of menace. “A year! How could you not tell me that? And I had no one holding my hand. God, I wanted to die.”
“What is he being such a diva about?” Beth asks me.
I shake my head. “I d—” My face drops and my spine straightens as I catch on. Holy shit. He got his dick pierced.
“I—” I take a breath as I rub soothing circles over Isabelle’s bump, then I lean over the table to talk directly to Mason. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”
“Yes, you did!”
“No, I didn’t!”
“It was heavily implied.” Mason scowls at me.
“It was not.”
Mason says something back to me, but I don’t hear it thanks to the blood suddenly rushing through my ears. My whole world seems to pause as I register the faint tap against my palm.
It’s become a habit whenever I’m near Isabelle to rest my hand against her stomach, especially since she’s been feeling BB move around so much more over the past few weeks.
My body freezes, tingles dance up my arms, and I swallow down a lump in my throat.
Izzy tells me our daughter moves more whenever I’m talking.
Whenever she comes home from work, I make a point to say a few words to my little girl, excitedly anticipating the day it’ll happen.
Even when I’m coming home from the bar in the middle of the night, I sneak into bed while Isabelle sleeps soundly and say a few words to her stomach, but nothing. Until now.
My head turns to Izzy’s stomach.
“Did you feel that?” Isabelle whispers.
With tears clouding my eyes, I nod. “Yeah.”
“Oh my god! You felt the baby?” my sister shrieks, then a flurry of movement happens behind me. When I look around, both our families are gathered behind me.
“Talk, Grim. You know she loves to hear you.” Isabelle encourages me, but with everyone watching, I feel a little foolish.
I chew on my lip, trying to think of the right words. A hand lands on my shoulder, followed by the calming lavender perfume of my mother.
“Hey, my little girl. It’s your daddy.” My voice breaks on the last word, and I wipe my eyes with my free hand. “I can’t wait to meet you.”
A little tap hits my hand, pulling a laugh from me. There’s another bump, then a flat-out punch against my palm.
I’m pulled from the moment by a high-pitched wail behind me.
“Told you she was likely to cry,” Mason mutters.
All heads turn to Beth, where she stands behind me, crying into Mason’s shirt sleeve.