After opening what felt like a hundred gifts and eating the food I’d prepared and had frozen earlier for next week’s party, I cornered Diane in the kitchen.

“Who’s responsible for this?” I didn’t want to sound like an ingrate, but it was hard to relax and enjoy myself when all I could think about was Chase’s family. My limited psychic abilities may have deserted me, but I could tell just by looking at Chase that something was bothering him, and I knew what that something was.

Diane poured herself another margarita and licked some of the salt off the rim before she answered. “You’re acting like we did something wrong. It was me, your mom, and Aunt Donna. Who else would it have been? Lorraine?”

She snorted.

“Sorry. I’m thankful, really. I just had no clue this time. I was really surprised.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I’ve surprised you before.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Um, your birthday? Remember?”

I shook my head and pushed her further into the kitchen where no one could hear us. I took her glass, licked the rim and took a mouthful of her margarita, and handed it back to her. “I knew. And wipe that horrified look off your face. One sip won’t do anything, I don’t have cooties, and you won’t get pregnant from my germs.”

She stared at her glass woefully, then shrugged and took another sip.

“Why didn’t you invite Chase’s family? You knew they were invited to the party next week?”

“We did invite them.” She was practically spitting. “Lorraine emailed and said ‘Sorry. Can’t make it.’ Four fucking words. And Chase’s mother said she had been planning to attend the original event, but she already had plans this weekend. She said she would mail her gift.”

I slumped against the counter. “Does Chase know?”

“I think Wally told him.”

From where I stood, I could see Chase in the living room with Wally and some of his other friends. They were laughing and carrying on, but Chase wore his usual serious expression. He seemed distracted, unfocused—unhappy, even, despite the surprise our friends had given us.

“Give me another sip,” I demanded, holding out my hand.

Diane pulled her arm back and almost sloshed half her margarita onto my clean kitchen floor. “I’ll make you a virgin margarita.”

“A virgin margarita isn’t going to give me the fortitude to deal with that.” I pointed at Chase. “Look at him. He’s miserable. This is such a slap in his face, and it’s my fault.”

“How the hell is it your fault? I thought things went well when you guys went to visit his mother at Christmas.”

“Christmas, Diane. That was five months ago, and we haven’t seen her since. And as far as I know, things are still messed up between him and Dylan. Things only appeared to go well.”

There was no one in the kitchen with us, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I lowered my head close to Diane’s ear and whispered. “His mother hates me. When she had me alone, she made it clear I wasn’t right for Chase and that he and his ex-fiancée will eventually get back together.”

Diane reeled back. “That fucking bitch. If I’d known, I never would’ve invited her.”

I shook my head. “No, no, you had to. That was the only reason I wanted to have the housewarming in the first place. I thought I could get his family here with other people around so it wouldn’t be awkward, and we could try and lay some groundwork to build some sort of relationship. If they could at least tolerate me, it would be better than this.”

“Fuck them. They shouldn’t have to be made to tolerate you. You’re not someone who needs to be tolerated. You’re one of the best people I know.”

I didn’t know how many margaritas Diane had ingested, but she was not only getting weepy, she was getting loud.

I plucked the glass from her hand, drained the last of it, and put it in the sink. Then I grabbed a Pepsi from the cooler. “Here. Drink this. You’ve had enough of the hard stuff. Don’t tell anyone what I told you. Other than one little freak-out when he told her I was pregnant, Chase’s mother was nothing but kind and friendly when he was in the room, so that’s all he knows. I don’t want him to know anything else. Understand? Don’t you say one thing to Wally, because he’ll tell Chase—and I swear, if he does, I’ll tell Janelle it was you who spilled red wine on her new white couch at the twins’ birthday party.”

“You bitch! That wasn’t me!”

“I don’t care.”

She narrowed her eyes but then stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

I shook her hand. “And seriously, who gets a white couch with twin boys anyway?”

“I know, right? Even though I didn’t spill the wine, I would’ve spilled something on it eventually.”

I took the can of Pepsi from her and drank. I wasn’t supposed to have caffeine either, but I needed a jolt of something to keep me going. All I wanted was to sneak off to my bedroom.

Diane yanked the can from my hand. “Can you get your own drink already?”

“I will,” I said as Chase entered the kitchen for another Heineken from the cooler. “But first, I have to deal with this.”

* * *

I sidled up to Chase, slipped my arm around his waist, and tucked my hand into the back pocket of his jeans. “How’re you doing?”

His body swayed slightly, and when he smiled down at me, I could see he was drunk—or close to getting there.

He put his arm around me, resting his hand on my hip, and pulled me closer.

“I’m great. Some surprise, huh?” His tone was flat. Anyone hearing him might have thought he was ungrateful, but I knew differently, and it was killing me.

“Izzy’s having fun,” I said. She was sitting next to Janelle, telling her all the names we had chosen for her new baby brother or sister. “She should probably go to bed soon. I’ll get her and—”

“I’ll do it.” He threw his head back and finished half the bottle, then set it on the new end table. I snatched it up before it could leave a ring. “I need a break from all this celebrating.”

“Kiss me first,” I said, wishing I could suck the sadness out of him somehow. It bothered me to see him like this. His pain was my pain, and it was deep.

“I’m only going to put Izzy to bed.”

“I know. Kiss me anyway.” I pulled him down, desperate to kiss the sadness off his face. When I caught his bottom lip in my teeth, he growled softly.

“Later,” I promised. “You, me, and this basketball of a belly. I figured out a new way to get jiggy with it.”

He let out a loud laugh. Success!

“You got it. I think I need to get a little jiggy.” He kissed my forehead, then went to collect our daughter, smiling.

And for the first time since we’d walked into our house that night, my heart felt a little lighter.