Chapter Twenty-One

Being with the girls is refreshing. Saylor seems happier and says she’s working the pole quite well. Emberlee is still adjusting to New York, but has her footing more so than a few months ago. I’m sure it helped with the off-season break and being home with Brody. Brecklynn is radiant— she’s propped up in bed waiting for the medicine to kick in so she can welcome her baby into the world.

“Good morning, Mrs. Adler. How are you feeling?” Her perky nurse bounces in the room and Emberlee rolls her eyes while sipping coffee.

“Good. Ready.” Brecklynn is pouring happiness.

“Can I have some of this,” Emberlee holds up her coffee cup, “in one of those.” She points to Breck’s I.V. and I shake my head. Girl has issues.

The nurse ignores Emberlee’s intrusion and remains focused with Breck’s comfort. “Who will be in the room with you?” She glances to the three of us and Mason.

“Me. I did this.” Mason is functioning with less brain cells than normal. His excitement, nervousness, and pride— it’s making him look like an ass.

“Thanks for the clarification. I was wondering if it was the guy standing at 5th and Main we met.” I quip and he jerks his head to give me a death glare.

“Can’t everyone be here?” Breck wonders.

“No. Two people.” The nurse bursts her bubble.

“My husband.” Mason takes her hand.

“That’s me.” Holy fucking dipshit.

“Breck, let your mom be here. She went to get another cup of coffee.” I rub her hand.

“Our son will enter the world sporting a Texas accent.” Mason whines.

“What’s wrong with that?” Breck narrows her eyes at him and grips her stomach. “Shit, that medicine is working.”

There’s a bustle of activity and Wanda shows up. I nod to the door so we all make quick work of wishing her luck and giving her a hug for support. “Let us know.” Saylor begs Wanda. “He’ll be useless.” She motions to Mason and he didn’t hear her. He looks a bit green and is focusing on Brecklynn’s pain.

“Will do.” Wanda pats Saylor and we leave.

“More coffee. Who the fuck gets induced at six in the morning?” Lee Lee is heading to the cafeteria.

“Good lord, if we thought the first time she was pregnant was bad with caffeine, imagine it now when she has a toddler to raise. I hope it happens when she’s here so I can support via the telephone.” Saylor pseudo whispers.

“Bitch. I heard that. And I don’t think kids are happening. We’ve been trying for four months.” Her voice drops and I see her chin quiver.

“Lee Lee,” I hug her. “It’ll happen.”

“We weren’t trying last time.” She tries to wipe her nose against my shirt but I duck.

“You have a toddler. You moved less than a year ago . . . a lot of stress. Give it some time.” She nods and dries her eyes.

“I’m under caffeinated and it’s making me mopey.” She brushes me off.

I look at Saylor and we nod. This is something we’ll have to keep an eye on. If she’s trying it means she’s ready for more than a baby but this is her way of avoiding having to say anything. Brody will pressure her again for marriage and she’ll accept under the guise of it being because she’s pregnant. Emberlee carries scars but she presents her wounds different than Saylor. She’s underhanded and defensive when it comes to it . . . sometimes she is her worst enemy.

Nolan Cason Adler arrives at nine pounds thirteen ounces and twenty-one inches long. As soon as we’re allowed to visit we all rush through the door. Mason is holding— shall I say guarding— him. “Wash your hands.” He barks.

I glance to Saylor and Emberlee giving them a look to convey he’s lost his fucking mind. “Mason, shut up.” Brecklynn sighs. She extends her arms to take the baby and Mason moves a step further from the bed. “I swear on your pitching arm, if you don’t give me my fucking son, I’ll castrate you.”

“Did you wash your hands?” He has the audacity to ask her and that’s it— we can’t hold the laughter in.

“Fuck.You.” Her snarl doesn’t hold anger. He wisely gives her Nolan and she passes him to Emberlee never breaking her death glare focused on her husband.

“Be careful.” Mason admonishes Lee Lee.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” I mumble.

Saylor whispers, “I’m gonna make that little boy fall in fucking love with me. Game on, motherfucker.”

As soon as I get my hands on him I gasp. I’ve never seen a child that’s such a perfect blend of its parents as he is. Nolan’s got Breck’s purplish eyes and Mason’s light brown hair. “Breck, he’s beautiful. Lord, the girls are gonna go crazy.”

Saylor growls beside me and I giggle. In ten years it’s gonna be quite interesting. I’m gonna start stocking alcohol now.

I hate leaving my friends and we all decide a week in the summer will become reality. I squeeze Lee Lee and remind her, “Call me. I’m here.”

“I know. I’m gonna relax and see if it happens. We go to the doctor next week.” I kiss Nolan and leave for the airport.

Saylor sighs. “This sucks.”

“Yeah, Shortstop— it does.” It isn’t the first time I’ve wondered why we have to grow up.

“Aves. I need help.” Breck’s panicked voice greets me.

“You okay? Mason okay? Nolan okay?” I rush.

“Yes. Oh god, sorry. Mommy brain. Those cupcakes you made Mason— can you email me the recipe?” She sighs. “We have his parents here this week and it’s our first night without the baby. He’s wining and dining me.” I can hear the smile in her tone.

And if I know Mason, he’s also gonna sixty-nine her. “So why are you trying to make cupcakes? And you do know that was a box mix— you saw me make them.”

“I know but I couldn’t find cupcake mix at the store.” Jesus take the wheel. She didn’t say that to me.

“Again, I ask why do you need cupcakes for your night out. And Breck, cupcakes don’t have a separate mix. The instructions are on the back of the cake box.” Caden chuckles. “Hurry up, my man has a rare night with no studying and I won’t be wasting it baking.”

“Oh my gosh. Are you fucking kidding me?” Her shriek is over the top. “I walked by thirty cake mixes. This is a fucking mess. I have icing and nothing to frost.”

“Why.Do.You.Need.Cupcakes?” I’m fixing to hang up on her ass.

“The last thing he said to me this morning was he wanted to eat my cupcake.” She wails. “I figured he forgot I didn’t make them.”

“Breck, honey, breathe. I know you’re tired but listen. He meant he wanted to eat your pussy. If you’re determined to create a baked good of sorts, slather that frosting all over your hoo-ha— shave or wax first— get comfortable and let him go to town. Sounds like you need it.” Caden’s eyes widen and he chokes as he drains his beer.

“I swear I’m an idiot.” She sounds discouraged.

“No, you aren’t. You’re tired. Nolan is seven weeks. Have you had sex since you got clearance?” I can’t believe I’m broaching this topic with her— again.

“Nolan is a cock blocker. Fuck no. Hence the hotel room and his parents in town. I don’t even know if it works down there anymore. It’s probably all stretched and he won’t want it.” We’re entering dangerous territory.

“Breck, it won’t be throwing a hotdog down a hallway. That shit stretches and goes back— just like a rubber band. I’m sure it works. Frosting. Pussy. Legs open. I’m gonna go see if I have any frosting.” I laugh.

“You’re a lifesaver.” She exclaims.

“Don’t hold your ears or puff your cheeks.” I tease.

“I still hate you for that.” She grumbles.

“Yet, you dialed my number. Bye.” I end the call to Caden bent at the waist in a full blown laughing fit. “I do believe I’m up to two weeks of days named after me. But I’m glad she listened. Usually she’s an askhole.”

“Aves,” he wheezes. “It doesn’t work like that. Who do you know that has two weeks of days for their sainthood? We aren’t Catholic, woman. And do you blame her for ignoring your advice— chipmunk cheeks . . .”

“You’re right. Two weeks is a bit much. I should donate one of those days to someone else. The Nobel Peace Prize holder? Who is that? And she deserved it for wanting a backdoor for beginners lesson.” He begins his fit again.

“Baby, that isn’t how any of this works. You aren’t getting sainted, or knighted. You won’t have a holiday or fourteen named after you.” He’s obtuse.

“I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.” I huff. “And I’m not searching for frosting. You won’t get rewarded for that shit.”

He shrugs. “I’ll eat you without frosting.”

I cut my eyes. “Okay.” Double win for me— I get an orgasm and I don’t have to clean the sheets. Definite sainthood worthy thinking. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “But our friends are insane. Who doesn’t know what getting a hotel, parents babysitting and saying ‘I’m gonna eat your cupcake’ means? Every time I think they’ve reached a level of insanity never experienced in the human race they take that as a challenge and rise to it.”

“Something’s rising with all that sass. Come over here and sit on it.” He undoes his jeans and sure enough something springs out. Greeting me like the trusty friend it is.

“That’s beautiful, Picasso.” Caden is staring at the canvas I’m painting for Nolan’s room. I could wait until the summer and paint a mural on his wall but inspiration hit.

“Thanks. Look at it.” I watch his eyes take in the baseball field; Deacon’s number is etched in the clay where the Shortstop position is, Caden’s where the catcher should be, and Mason’s is carved into the pitcher’s mound. His name is block style over the dugout and I’ve painted a bat, glove, and mask that combine those three positions.

“I’m missing something.” He tilts his head.

“I did, too, until an hour ago. His middle name.” I point to ‘Cason’ and wait for him to put two and two together.

His eyes go soft, his hand clenches and it’s apparent he understands. “Why didn’t they tell us?”

I shrug. “I can’t believe none of us caught it. We’re horrible.” Cason is a blend of Mason, Caden, and Deacon. Brody has the honor of being godfather and biological uncle so this was something Mason could give his son and be able to incorporate his friends into the most important part of his life.

“I gotta call him.” I hug him.

“Okay. I’ll give you some time.” I know my man— he’s battling emotions. It isn’t reserved to us girls— he’s missing home, too. One year almost down— three to go.

“It was her fucking idea to do this spin class and she didn’t show.” I pant. Fuck me— who thought this shit was fun? I’ll give the inventor credit— it’s a kick ass work-out but my crotch is raw, my legs Jell-O, and my arms are noodles.

Emberlee insisted we come to this gym for the spin class. Her words were— and I quote— Darby’s pre-school teacher told me it was the best in New York. Fuck that— it is the best form of torture.

“She had a doctor’s appointment.” Saylor wheezes. Caden couldn’t come with me because of summer classes and Deacon is taking vacation next month to take the kids to Disney World, a belated fifth birthday for Julie and third birthday for Kinsley, so he’s at home being an adult.

“I don’t care if she had a meeting with the Pope.” Breck snarls.

I keep my mouth shut— if that man hasn’t called me yet, Lee Lee doesn’t have a chance in hell of getting a face to face with him. Speak of the devil, and in this moment, as she strides in, her body isn’t dripping in sweat, her lungs aren’t seizing, her makeup isn’t dripping into her mouth— she is the spawn of all spawns. “Hey.” She calls with cheer in her voice and a pep in her step.

I answer with my middle finger as I’m still sprawled on the gym floor. Lifting my arm so she can see my finger is quite the feat. “Sorry I missed it. Was it fun?”

“Fun?” Saylor gushes. “After this class, fun is pole burn scarring the inside of my thighs. Fun is potty training Kinsley. Fun is getting another cavity filled in Julie’s mouth thanks to Mason’s fucking lollipop obsession and Deacon’s Starbucks infatuation. Fun would be getting fucked up the ass with no prep.” She snaps. “This class wasn’t fun. And yes, I’ve done anal. You bitches aren’t special.”

We’re silent for three . . . two . . . one . . . “Want to go get a smoothie? It’s hot outside.” Lee Lee asks.

If I could move— and I can’t— I’d channel my inner Karate Kid and crane the shit outta her. “Fuck all of you. I had a bigheaded kid fifteen weeks ago. He’s Mason’s clone, so how much sleep you think I’m getting? He has a penchant for my tits at all hours just like his father.”

“Mason’s a boob man? Hmmm. I would’ve thought he was an ass guy. Learn something new every day.” Saylor manages with a straight face.

“Help me up.” I plead. Emberlee comes and stands over me.

“I’m pregnant.” I don’t know what higher power helps me but I’m able to spring up— thanks Ralph Macchio— and grab her.

The four of us look like idiots, dancing in the middle of a gym, three of us wiping sweat all over Emberlee to her shrieking. “Twins.” My ass hits the mat again. “The fertility drugs worked.”

“You have to move back.” Saylor cries. Emberlee has been taking fertility drugs for two months— she’s one of the lucky ones— and according to her grin— she knows it.

“Working on it. It’ll be another year or so.” She’s so giddy.

“You have to marry my brother now— you promised before three kids. You’re carrying two. One plus two is three. Yes!” Breck rambles.

Looks like we have another wedding to plan.