Finn looked around at the holy hell mess that he and his crew were making. If they hung any more decorations, Pete’s was going to disappear completely, but he truly felt that setting the stage was as important as the scenes taking place.

Whiskey Pete’s inaugural Halloween Spooktacular was a bigger than big undertaking. So far, all the crazy shit he and Barry thought up for Pete’s had turned out pretty good. Even their impromptu decision to bring in live music and call Tuesdays Spaghetti Ready nights in the dining room were a winner. Bella made sure her Monkey on a Bun spaghetti sandwich got on the menu.

But without a doubt, this weeklong series of events was sure to earn them a solid place in the pantheon of Bendover legends.

Barry was taking a panoramic shot with his phone. It was his idea to go Wild West haunted saloon. Luckily, enough party shit was on the market for Wild West and haunted houses that they found dressing the place up pretty easy.

Manny jumped down from a barstool after draping gray cobwebs along the top shelf. They’d placed red filters over the recessed lights illuminating the expensive booze. The effect was spookily awesome.

“Cool, huh?” the stocky man chortled. Manny was a former luchador who made a name in lucha libre wrestling. Finn had seen pictures from that time of his culinary right hand dressed in a flamboyant mask and cape. Manny insisted on keeping a statue of the Virgin Mary in the kitchen, and every Friday night, he turned her around so she wouldn’t be shocked by the debauchery at Pete’s on any given weekend.

Not that Manny was immune to debauchery. He had a wicked taste for tequila, the more hardcore, the better, and he knew where to go for the best lap dances in Phoenix.

A small hand slipped into his back pocket and made Finn smile. This was Remy’s new thing. Her way of saying hello even though her mouth usually said something snarky.

“Is that a leprechaun ghost?” she asked with a snort of amusement. “In a Wild West saloon?”

He grinned and turned to face her. “They went wherever the gold was.”

“Your da says I should drop a silver dime anytime I see a leprechaun. Do you think a spooky looking green ghost counts?”

“Come here,” he quipped. “Look.” Finn led her to the corner of the bar where the leprechaun ghost sat next to a bubbling cauldron emitting fog. He pointed at the little stack of dimes behind the ghost’s foot. “There’s a dime for me, you, Meggie, Alex, and the twins. The rest of these fuckers are on their own.”

“Aw, you included me. Thanks, Beantown.”

“My pleasure, Frenchy.”

Remy laughed and smacked his arm. “You’re going to make that stick, aren’t you? Frenchy. Sheesh.”

“What do you get when you cross a ginger Irishman with a Franco-American seductress?”

The shock on Remy’s face made him laugh. Messing with her was the definition of fun. He expected her to respond with something flip. Like shitshow or manmade disaster. This time, though, she had a different reaction.

“If we follow the recipe right, maybe something spectacular.”

Every time she surrendered an inch, he made sure to reward his brave little love. Cupping her chin, he lowered his mouth to hers and tasted her hesitant response.

“Get a room,” Barry bawled as he walked by carrying a doctor’s skeleton hanging from a rolling display dressed in a Whiskey Pete’s T-shirt.

Remy flipped him off. “By the way,” she said, “I’ve got the perfect costume for FiFi. She’ll love it.”

He groused at her. “Why can’t you just tell me who you’re dressing as?”

“Because, you boob, since you and Barry decided the whole Pete’s crew have to dress like outlaws, that kind of left me flapping in the wind. Next time, shithead, consult the girlfriend. It’s rule number three or four in the boyfriend manual.”

“I hope this thing doesn’t blow up in my face,” he admitted.

She snorted with amused laughter. “Are you kidding? Finn, for real. The Spooktacular is all anyone can talk about, and it hasn’t even happened yet. Relax, darlin’,” she playfully drawled.

He gasped and acted shocked. “Did my snarky girlfriend just call me darling?”

Remy hauled off and shoved him. Hard. “Don’t make me regret being nice to you!”

He laughed. They hugged. Every day, they inched closer to the time when she’d truly be his.

“Are you sure you want to skip opening night? We’ll miss the practice sessions for the mechanical bull riding.”

Angie shrugged. “It’s not like I haven’t seen Sophie do her thing before this.”

Parker studied his subdued wife while shuffling tiles for the Scrabble game they were playing. He didn’t give a shit about the costume party kick-off for Finn’s Halloween adventure. What he cared about was that his normally vivacious, party planning mate wasn’t her usual self.

She shrugged again before laying out a new word. “Flocate,” she announced.

He looked at her, then at the board, and then at her again. “That’s not a word.”

“But I want it to be a word,” she complained. “It’s not fun if I have to come up with real words.”

Typical Angelina logic.

He laid down his tiles. “Coputir.”

Tut tutting, she removed the tiles and handed them back. He laughed. “How come you get to make up words, and I don’t?”

“Because you got me pregnant”—which was her answer to everything—“and because you’re a lawyer. You know all the words and don’t need to make any up.”

The lighthearted moment passed, and they went back to the game. Once challenged, she came back with guns blazing and took him down with a spectacular placement of the word quartzy with the z falling on a double letter score.

“Want to go again?” he asked while she filled her water glass.

“Can we watch TV or something? My back hurts.”

Parker wasn’t sure how watching television was going to ease a backache, but he knew something that would.

“I have a better idea.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Come on. Let’s get my baby mama comfortable, shall we?”

She predictably skipped along happily. Angie was always ready for anything he pulled out of his arsenal.

In their bedroom, he removed her clothes and had her lay on the bed. He hoped her discomfort would vanish with a massage.

He talked about work and random stuff that didn’t require her to concentrate. He just wanted her to relax because she was wound way too tight.

Using a lotion that made his hands glide smoothly, he paid special attention to her feet and smiled when she groaned.

He slowed when his hands caressed her belly. The baby moved beneath his fingers.

“Parker,” Angie mumbled.

“Hmm, baby girl?”

“Nothing,” she murmured.

He wished he had a clue what was on her mind.

“Roll to the side,” he told her. When she moved, he watched as she shifted until the baby was comfortable—then she relaxed.

He worked on her hip and waist. Angie’s discomfort was hard to deal with. He hated that being pregnant was so one-sided.

“Ah, ohh,” she moaned when his hands found a tense spot.

And then she started to cry. He was so startled that for a long moment he stood there dumbfounded and frozen to the spot.

“Baby,” he cried in an anguished groan. He sat on the bed and pulled her naked body onto his lap. She was shaking, so he grabbed the throw blanket at the foot of the bed and wrapped her up like a swaddled baby.

“Honey. What’s the matter?”

“I, I don’t know.” She sniffled miserably.

The past couple of days had felt hard. For him. For Alex. For everyone. It was very possible that she was picking up on the growing anxiety, and that wasn’t okay.

His brain searched for a diversion. “Hey. You wanna binge watch something? What about that time travel show or the one about the queen?”

“O-okay,” she whimpered. “Can we have pudding? The baby likes pudding.”

Pudding? What the hell did that mean? Like those little pudding cups from the store? He had no idea if they had any. “Do I have to go to the store?”

She wiped her nose and looked at him like he was daft. “No, silly. Your mom made it and dropped off a container. She said pudding was your favorite.”

He could not remember the last time he ate pudding, but if his mom said he liked it, that was good enough for him.

Parker laughed. “In that case, sure! Have all the pudding you want.”

She smiled, and a bit of the upset in her eyes faded. This pregnancy thing was testing her in ways he could barely imagine.

“Are you mad because I don’t want to go out?”

He promptly put that fear to rest. “Fuck, no. I’d rather be here with you than anyplace else.”

His answer seemed to lift her spirits. She clutched the blanket around her nakedness. “Can I wear one of your T-shirts? All my pajamas are tight.”

He’d give her the shirt off his back if that was what she needed.

Getting her dressed was fun. She sat like a baby and let him pull a shirt over her head. He helped her step into some panties and ended with a kiss on their bump.

“Thank you.” She smiled into his eyes.

He needed this nightmare with Justice to be over, so he and his angel could get back to their happily ever after.