Gretchen

It was a beautiful wedding…until the alcohol was served.

Then the bloodshed flowed like champagne.

A gentle, golden orange sunset had framed the ceremony with a solemn reverence, and even the hideously orange bridesmaid dresses blended into the fiery horizon. The Payne’s farmland provided a perfect backdrop to the quiet wedding where Dad and Chloe exchanged their vows under an ivory tent, surrounded by the silent ire of two hundred Murphys and Waltzs.

And while we made it through the ceremony without a disapproving family member objecting when the minister volunteered the opportunity, the quiet mutterings began soon after the kiss.

While most of the family preferred to wait for the music to begin before voicing their concerns, questions, and abject horror to the match, those who’d pre-gamed before the wedding with hidden flasks—Uncle Jerod and Aunt Silvia specifically—decided to voice their opinions loudly, proudly, and from the wrong side of the unintentionally segregated reception tables.

According to Aunt Silvia, the whore had picked the hors d’oeuvres. Uncle Jerod correctly identified the marriage as the result of a mid-life crisis gone wrong. And though I might have agreed, I’d hoped the food would be served before the insults.

I was wrong.

The problems began with the toast.

No one ever should have handed Uncle Isaac—Dad’s best friend and brother—a microphone. Especially when he was already holding a beer. He raised his glass, looked over the two hundred guests who’d taken their seats under beautiful tents in a field awash with wildflowers, and chose that time to tell a joke.

“I wish my brother, Elijah, all the luck in the world.” He held his beer up. “He’s gonna need it. Not every marriage starts with a bride younger than the wine.”

The wedding hushed. Uncle Isaac always seemed to miss his social cues.

He continued, chuckling to himself. “Elijah, don’t you mind what anyone says. 1996 was an excellent vintage. I hear the fruit is finally ripe.”

The Waltzs tutted and whispered. Aunt Silvia raised her hand.

“Preach it!”

Uncle Isaac finished his toast with a beaming smile. “Now, it’s past your bride’s bedtime. Send her off to sleep so we can get this party started!”

I had to admit—the toast was a pretty ballsy way to ruin a wedding.

Then again, the rest of the guests had their own methods to destroy what should have been one of the happiest moments of my father’s life.

The evening dissolved into chaos, but, with a fourth negative pregnancy test under my belt—technically, in the garter that Chloe insisted all her bridesmaids wear—I’d decided I’d skip the protests and instead drink until I couldn’t feel how my shoes pinched the blood out of my toes.

It didn’t help.

Chloe leaned over to kiss Dad, her baby bump just barely showing in her satin dress.

How great for her.

How abso-fucking-lutely great for her. Life couldn’t get any better for Chloe unless it decided to kick me in the crotch, slam a brick upside my head, and poison my wine.

What a miracle. A baby. My stepmother was having a baby. My stepmother, two years my junior, had already baked, risen, formed, and tossed her bun in the oven.

And she was glowing.

Especially compared to me.

I drank at the end of their bridal table, smiling like an idiot. Of course, it fell to me to keep the peace, even though I was currently seeing double of Silvia and my cousin, Nala.

Had the farm always spun this fast?

Maybe I had a bit too much to drink.

Didn’t seem possible, but I supposed after I’d separated from Marius to take the bridal pictures, I might have had one or two—but a small two—shots of tequila. Or was it three? Counting was hard after the second glass of wine. But, if nothing else, it got me one spritzer closer to my ultimate goal.

Blackout drunk.

Or, drunk enough to do all the dirty things I’d originally imagined doing to Marius on the night of the bachelorette party.

After all…

I was ovulating.

And I laughed so hard at my own damn luck I snorted into my wine. The liquid bubbled up and spilled onto my dress.

Whoops. Ruined the wedding.

Just my luck. The dress would have to come off. But I’d already planned for that. My ovaries only liked to party on the busiest day of my schedule. Dropping eggs on the plane, in the middle of my father’s wedding.

And why not? They just wanted to be part of the fun.

I had the ovulating part down. That was easy. But knocking me up? That’d take another bottle of wine…or six.

If it ever happened. Hell, I’d planned on the baby months ago. Figured getting pregnant would have taken the sting out of the wedding.

Ha.

At least I had cake. Cake, a uterus, a family waiting for my speech, and Marius nowhere to be found. Not like I could have chased after him anyway. Couldn’t really stand. Definitely couldn’t walk. And it’d be pretty awkward to explain to my family why I had to get humped in the middle of the field.

Too drunk to get laid in a bed! Just roll me next to the alpaca.

The books said that it didn’t matter how many times we did it, it would only ever take once to get pregnant. All I needed to do was bend over, open my legs, surrender myself entirely to a man so broken, confused, and lost in his own misery that he didn’t understand how badly hurt he was.

I also needed to put a pillow under my ass.

Pillow first, then I could start a life with Marius after confessing feelings for him I had no right to feel.

And that was goddamned hilarious.

I snorted a giggle as I wavered to my feet. Now, who would let a girl wear heels when she was this freaking tipsy? I kicked my foot. One of the shoes stayed under the table. The other launched skyward, nearly puncturing the tent with its heel. At least it quieted the crowd.

Someone passed a microphone to me. A cousin maybe? I immediately dropped it into my champagne. Broke the glass, but I laughed. Not sure anyone else did, but it amused me.

I rubbed the mic into my dress, drying the alcohol dripping into the electronics. “Not sure I need to get any more toasted.”

Aunt Sylvia backed me up from the tables. “Lord have mercy.”

I pointed at her. “Exactly.”

Should have been the end of my speech. What else was there to say? Wasn’t like anything I’d confessed before the ceremony had made any goddamned difference.

Hell, wasn’t like I had the balls to actually tell my father the truth before he said I do.

I’d been so fucking afraid of tearing us apart that I’d willingly stepped aside to let him make the greatest mistake of his life.

But we all made mistakes.

Except for me.

I’d done everything right, and it hadn’t worked. Nothing worked.

At least I had an opportunity to make a complete fool of myself to my father, my family, and Marius.

I raised my glass. “I’m just gonna say what everyone is thinkin’.”

Great Aunt Tanisha snorted. “You better not. Jesus is listening.”

“I love my dad,” I said. “It’s great that he’s happy. And I wish him the best with…this.”

Neither family seemed to agree.

“No, really.” My drink sloshed. “Why shouldn’t we wish them all the happiness in the world? I mean. It’s there, right? Happiness? Loads of people have it. Dad and Chloe say they’re happy. We can believe them. They’re crazy happy. In ecstasy really.” I waved a hand in front of me. “Don’t ask me how I know that.”

My cousin, Nala, hadn’t touched her champagne. Wouldn’t. Wasn’t proper for a good, God-fearing Christian. She quaked under a wide-brimmed straw hat. “Lord…if your mama were here, imagine what she would say.”

Bringing up my dead mother at my father’s wedding wasn’t the classiest of moves, and I wasn’t the only one who thought it. Almost everybody murmured over the chicken. Maybe it was chicken? I hadn’t shoved anything that wasn’t at least thirteen percent alcohol by volume down my gullet.

But I knew what to say.

“Mom always wanted Dad to be happy,” I said. “They had that perfect sorta love. Did everything for each other. Even tolerated when Dad would bring home some new, homeless animal from the clinic. One day, it’d be a dog. Next day it was a cat. One time we got a hamster. Should have figured one day he’d bring home a Chloe.”

I didn’t mean it as a joke, but everybody laughed.

I continued. “Mom’s been gone for a while, but we haven’t forgotten her. And I’ve taken care of Dad for years now. Just me and him. Together. How it’s always been.” My lip trembled. “But people need more than that. I get that now. He figured it out before me. Found himself a Chloe, and now he’s happy. And I want him to stay happy. I wish that he stays happy.”

Because one of us deserved to be.

“So, everybody, raise your glasses. Stop praying. Aunt Sylvia, quit your bitching. Just wish them a good life. Because they’re gonna need it. They got the new one to look after, so everyone just be nice and get along to prevent war at the baby shower.”

Silence.

Shoot.

Was I not supposed to mentioned the pregnancy?

The world was hazy enough without trying to remember things on top of it.

The family stared in horror. Chloe’s mom stood, drowning in the same red curls as her daughter. Hell, even she looked younger than Dad.

“Chloe…” Her voice shrilled. “Are you pregnant?”

And the chaos erupted.

I downed my champagne and stumbled into my seat. Probably would need more to forget that disaster.

Dad leaned over, his words soft.

“We…hadn’t told anyone yet, sunshine.” He squeezed my hand. “But it was…best to get it out in the open anyway.”

Chloe needed only Dad’s reassuring kiss to her cheek. She bounded out of her seat, raised a glass of apple cider, and squealed.

“We’re having twins!”

I’d either drink the rest of the champagne or smash the bottle over my own damn head.

Neither a hangover nor a concussion could compare to this headache.

I wobbled away from the table, leaving the wedding in a barrage of shock, horror, and scandal that would surely prevent the cake from being cut in a reasonable timeframe.

Twins.

Dad was having twins?

I couldn’t even have one child, and Dad was having two?

Marius caught me before I teetered off the farm and into a ditch. His solid arm wrapped frustratingly over my waist, and he led me away from the reception, lights, and music. A couple unsteady steps later, he reached down to buddy hold me over his shoulder.

I didn’t fight him, going limp over his back. The fields blurred and shook.

“Farm is so pretty,” I said. “Why do you wanna leave so bad?”

“Now I know you’re drunk.”

“No, really. It’s a great view.” I pinched his ass. He nearly dropped me. “Can’t wait to see more of it.”

Marius guided me to the house. I wagged a finger at him. Both of him. Two Mariuses? Not a problem. A man that gorgeous, twice? Fucking better than winning the lottery. Doubled the chances. One of them could give me a baby. Someday. Maybe.

Who knew?

Marius sat me on the porch and pushed an insulated paper cup of black coffee into my hand.

“You should drink this,” he said.

“Twins!” My exuberance spilled the coffee, but it was okay. Most of it landed on him and not the dress. “They’re having twins.”

“I heard.”

“And you want to know the funniest part?”

He frowned. It was hard to make him laugh, but he’d think this was amusing.

“It’s time.” I gave him a wink. But the world blacked out. Either I’d blinked or the champagne did me in. “I got that good feeling now.”

“What sort of feeling?”

“Mega fertile. It’s now or never, sailor. We do it now…and I know…I know, I know, I know…” I shouted it to the sky. “I know we’ll get pregnant this time. Whadda say?”

Marius snorted “You can’t even stand up straight.”

“So? Take your leg off and you can’t stand it all.”

“You’re a mean drunk.”

“Maybe it’s the alcohol…” It was probably alcohol. “Hell, even if it’s the crippling depression, but I need this right now. Right now.”

Marius leaned close and forced me to sip the coffee. “Gretchen…I don’t know how to give you what you want.”

“Oh, it’s real easy.” I started hiking up my dress. “Put it in. I’ll give it a little shimmy.”

“Not what I mean, sweetness.”

“I need you, Marius.”

I pulled him close, wrapping my arms around his neck. My kiss turned gentle, despite the crazed, desperate urges unhinging my sanity.

Was I even talking about a baby anymore?

Ever since the trip to DC, ever since I’d lost him inside of himself, Marius had grown so distant. Quiet.

Ashamed?

But he had no reason to be so miserable. He was brave. Strong. And every minute of every day I spent with him was a gift I’d never thought would be mine.

Maybe he wasn’t the man I’d always imagined, but if he could see what I saw in him, what he’d changed in me, he wouldn’t have looked at me with eyes darkened by resentment and pain.

“Make love to me,” I whispered. “Let’s go, just you and me. We’ll find somewhere quiet, and we can be together. Take me away from here.”

“We’re in the middle of a wedding.”

“It’s not a wedding. It’s a battle royale. They won’t miss me.” I grinned. “I know we can do it this time. I’ll give you a baby, Marius. In a few minutes, we’ll have everything we ever wanted.

And I didn’t just mean a child.

I met me. A life together. A future.

I meant everything I didn’t say, but even the unspoken promises terrified me.

Marius led me away from the light, music, dancing, and inevitable call to Sheriff Samson. With a quiet kiss, we headed to the back door, pausing only for him to nibble a quick bite to my neck. I giggled as we snuck into the kitchen, his hands already lifting handfuls of my skirt.

I smirked. “Good luck with the petticoat.”

“I’ll fucking cut it off if I have to.”

The door crashed against the wall. We clattered inside.

And Chloe’s wail echoed through the house.

“They all hate me!”

I nearly tripped over a sobbing, pregnant bride hiding from her own ceremony. A puddle of white chiffon spread over the kitchen floor, surrounded with lace, tulle, and petticoats. Chloe tossed her veil away, but her tiara had stayed. Mostly. It tangled in her curls, held to her head by virtue of a ridiculous quantity of hairspray. Thick black lines of mascara ran over her ivory cheeks. The rest of her makeup hadn’t faired any better. She’d rubbed her nose, smearing the lipstick. Not that she cared.

She stared at me, big blue eyes brimming with tears. “I knew you’d come to check on me, Gretchen. You’ve always been such a good friend.”

Somehow, Marius had already pulled half the petticoats down. I locked my legs together and fought the dizzying retribution of the tequila, wine, and champagne.

“I’ve been a what?” I asked.

Chloe picked at her dress. “The family hates me. Everybody’s calling me these terrible, horrible names. And I knew you didn’t mean to tell them about the babies…” She touched her tummy. “But I’m so glad you did. The secret was eating me alive.”

Marius was a gentleman even if he didn’t believe it. He helped Chloe to stand and offered her a tissue from a nearby box. The bridal gown puffed around her, lace nearly swallowing her whole.

“Why are you…here?” I asked. It wasn’t the right question, but it seemed easier to accuse her of hiding than to explain why my hand had been down Marius’s pants. “Shouldn’t you…be with Dad?”

“I can’t face them, Gretchen. Not after what they were saying.” Tears tickled her cheeks. “We rushed into this so fast. We’ve planned every aspect of our lives, but we weren’t thinking about…” She pointed outside. “About everyone else. I want to be with Elijah, but it’s all a blur.”

“It’s…okay,” I said. “It’s just a shock to everyone.”

She reached for me. “Did I just make a horrible mistake?”

My stomach dropped to my petticoats. “What? What mistake?”

“Was it a mistake to get married?”

Oh, the alcohol picked a bad time to swirl in my tummy. I wobbled, nearly knocking Marius into the wall.

Chloe sniffled. “You know I love your dad. But is that really enough? There’s the age difference between us. A generational difference. There’s even a race difference…” She smiled at me. “Though you and Marius seem to be so happy.”

“I…”

“I just don’t know. If we can’t survive this day, how do we handle the rest of our lives?”

I licked my lips. No sound came out. “How…how long have you been thinking about this?”

Chloe shrugged. A shower of glitter trailed her movement, turning the floor a sparkly shade of silver. “Oh, the last hour or so?”

The last hour?

Was she kidding me?

The only comprehensive, analytical, realistic thought this girl had ever done in her freaking life had come in the last hour?

What the hell was I supposed to tell her?

Of course, this was a bad idea!

Of course, it was scandalous for a woman her age to marry a man old enough to be her father!

And if the marriage wasn’t complicated enough, she was pregnant! With twins.

It wasn’t what my father should have dealt with in his retirement. He’d just closed a chapter on his life, and now he had to open the whole damn book again.

Fatherhood. Midnight feedings. Diapers. Newlyweds.

It was everything that should have been mine.

Everything that I had forsaken for so long.

Everything that I wanted so badly, and everything that life refused to give me.

What was I going to tell her? She’d already spoken the vows, wore the ring on her finger, and cared for the babies in her belly.

But if she was hesitating even the slightest bit…

Then Dad’s life would end before his new one began.

“Chloe…” I said.

But Marius interrupted me, his voice stern. The command made her flinch.

“Do you love him?” he asked.

She nodded. “More than anything.”

“So? What are you doing here?” He handed her another tissue. “Stop crying. Go wash your face. Find your husband. Your future is waiting, so go enjoy it with him. Forget what other people think. You deserve your own happiness.”

Chloe nodded, biting her lip. “You’re so right. They can judge all they want, but what I have with Elijah is real. I feel it here.” She touched her chest. “And here.” She rubbed her bump.

What the hell was Marius doing?

“Chloe,” I said. “If you’re worried…”

He didn’t let me finish. “Bathroom is down the hall. Go clean up, then enjoy your wedding.”

Chloe gathered her skirts, her smile wide. “Think you guys so much. Gretchen, I couldn’t ask for a better bridesmaid…or daughter.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

She skipped to the bathroom, already rubbing the makeup from her face. I seethed, my sights set on Marius.

“What the hell you doing?” I hissed. “Didn’t you hear what she said?”

“You’re drunk.” He stated the obvious. “She’s emotional. Don’t worry about what she said.”

“She might not want to stay with Dad!”

Marius dragged me outside, his grip firm on my wrist. I tripped after him, attempting to keep up with his large strides. How the hell did a man without a real leg walk so fast?

“She’s in love with your father,” he said. “And he loves her. And no matter what you think, no matter what you say, no matter what you do, nothing is going to change that love. Now you can either be supportive…or you can ruin both of their lives.”

“What if they’ve already ruined their lives?”

“Then it’s their problem, not yours. You have no right to tell them what to do.”

“The hell I can’t!”

“Sweetness…” He tugged me close. “You keep pointing to them, thinking you’re saving them from themselves, but that’s not it. You’re afraid of the unknown. Of taking a chance. Of getting hurt—”

“I’m not afraid—”

“Ask yourself this…” His words hardened. “If we don’t get pregnant…if you don’t have a baby…what then? Have you considered it? What happens if your father gets married, leaves town, and you don’t have a baby to start that new life?”

Night was falling, but it wasn’t the setting sun that chilled me. “That’s not going to happen. We will have a baby.”

He said nothing else, taking my hand and leading me to the barn.

Not that I was feeling particularly amorous at the moment.

I followed him, stumbling into the newly constructed barn. The door soundly closed behind us.

“You know…” For as slurred I’d made my words, the alcohol sure as hell sharpened them. “You’re one to talk, Marius Payne. You’re gonna call me a coward? Fine. Tell me what you’d do if you didn’t have a baby. What’s gonna happen when everyone in DC realizes you aren’t this family man that we’ve invented? What happens when they see the real you?”

His stare hardened. “And who is the real me?”

“Hell if I know, but I’d love to find out.”

“Would you?”

I wavered on my feet. He caught me, my skin heating under his touch. “You won’t let me close. You won’t open up. You won’t let me see you.”

“There’s nothing left to see.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Marius stalked away, deeper into the barn. I followed, picking an uneven path in the low light. A few dazzling rays of sunset drifted through new timbers. The scent of fresh wood, hay, and mustiness filled the stalls. I bumped against the half-walls, but Marius said nothing.

He took me by the hips, lifted me up, and placed me onto the railing. My skirt drifted upwards, but I poked his chest before he poked me.

“What is it about you?” I whispered. “Why won’t you talk to me? What horrible secrets are you keeping that you’re so afraid of me learning?”

Marius frowned. Always so serious, so dark and tortured.

He had a wonderful smile I never got to see. But that was good. Prevented me from falling too hard for him. Then I really would be lost. Then, I’d never find my way out of his emerald eyes, his silken touch.

“What do you want to know?” he asked. “You know the kind of man I am. What I’d become. Nothing can change that. But you agreed to this. To take me the way I was. You can’t demand any more than that.”

“I don’t need you to be any more than you already are…” I swallowed. “I just want you to trust me.”

“Would I fuck you if I didn’t trust you?”

“Would you lie to me if you did?”

“Do you want to get fucked or not?”

At this point fucking was all we had. We only trusted each other was when our worlds collided, our hearts melded, and we could share in that absolute honesty. He never said what he felt, never let me close to the pain, suffering, or rage that consumed him.

But when we moved together?

I almost understood him.

“What do you want?” I wished the tears hadn’t burned my eyes. “You’re so quick to judge me, but what about you? Do you want me to fuck you?”

“More than anything.”

“What do you get out of it?”

He scowled. “What kind of question is that?”

It was the only question that fucking mattered anymore. “Do you want a baby? Fine. We’ll have a baby. Do you want to just get off? Fine. We’ll use each other in silence for the rest of our lives. Do you want me to help you?”

His expression darkened. “You can’t help me.”

“Not if you don’t let me try. There’s something you haven’t told me, Marius, and it’s killing you.”

Maybe I’d imagined it—all the tender touches, soft kisses, and quick flutters of my heart.

Maybe I’d fallen for the wrong man—thinking I could have a future with someone damaged and wounded.

Or maybe there was a part of him screaming for my help.

Begging for my love.

I couldn’t let him fade away.

Marius gripped my skirts. He stared at me, voice harsh. “Gretchen, I…”

A clatter rose from the corner of the barn, summoning an unholy, demonic cry that echoed from the rafters.

“What the fuck…”

Marius hauled me off the railing and pushed me behind him. I followed. The petticoats didn’t. They tangled in my ankles as I rolled into the hay. He leapt in front of me, arms bent, ready to punch.

“Gretchen, run!”

He didn’t have to ask me twice. I kicked the petticoats away and raced to the door. Marius followed, hollering as the creature clamored behind him.

The cry echoed again, a creeping bellow ripped from the depths of hell.

From the darkness skulked a dark, oppressive shadow. Clinging to the night, suffocating in hatred, it shuffled a broken and unwieldy gait. It’s hollow, desperate cry chilled my blood.

Marius armed himself with a pitchfork. I grabbed my cell from my corset, lighting the flashlight app.

And the alpaca stepped into the brightness.

Marius grumbled. “Oh, Christ. It’s just…Alicia?”

The alpaca lurched before us, skin taut, head down, teeth bared.

And a burst of liquid showered from her behind.

Into the night, a second bleat demanded blood.

“Holy shit…” Marius aimed the pitchfork. “It’s absorbing the other animals!”

I slapped his arm. “No, you idiot! She’s having a baby!”

And she was in trouble.

The poor alpaca labored with deep, quivering breaths. She attempted to lay on her knees, then stood again, turning in a tight circle to try to move as an even uglier alpaca did it’s best to wiggle from an unmentionable region of leathery despair.

Marius couldn’t handle it.

He put his hand on his knees, took a deep breath, and nearly retched. “Holy Christ, Gretchen. I’m sorry. I had no idea I was gonna do that to you.”

I rolled my eyes. Hopefully, when my time finally came, I’d give birth with a bit more dignity than heaving a twenty-pound alpaca through my vagina in the middle of the farm.

“I gotta get Dad,” I said. “He’ll know what to do.”

Marius gripped my arm, eyes wide. “Don’t leave me alone with it!”

The SEAL could fight terrorists and hunt warlords, but he couldn’t comfort a birthing pachyderm?

Men.

“Call your brothers,” I said.

“Call a goddamned priest. That’s an abomination.”

“Then find Varius. See if he can’t bless some water or Mountain Dew or something.”

I raced through the grass, the alcohol teetering me as I skidded into a tent post and aimed for the DJ booth. The wedding had turned from joyous party to World War I battleground. The dance floor served as a trench, a row of tables as barbed wire. No mustard gas, but the buffet had a bit of mayo and ketchup that sure as hell would stain.

I grabbed the microphone from the DJ and whistled.

“Dad!” I pointed to the barn. “We need you! It’s the alpaca!”

Dad always had been Butterpond’s best veterinarian, never letting any animal stay in pain or danger. But Chloe reached me first, yanking off her veil and tossing her bouquet to the first person she saw.

Me.

“Something’s wrong with the alpaca?” Chloe asked. “I’ve mostly studied horses, but they probably have the same parts.”

God, I hoped so, but for all I knew, Alicia was half-alpaca, half-hellspawn. “She’s in labor.”

Dad reached my side with a huff, pulling off his jacket and abandoning a rather unsavory conversation with Chloe’s father. “How far along is she?”

I had no idea, so I mimed the calf’s appearance, shoulders halfway dislocated, hooves forward, expressions just as disillusioned as ours. At least we had the benefit of distance between us and Alicia’s leathery nether portal.

“Huh. Then she’s almost done.” Dad nodded to Chloe. “Not a breach. This should be easy.”

Chloe giggled. “After you, Dr. Murphy.”

Somehow, Chloe managed to conjure the only image more horrifying than the baby emerging from the alpaca’s alpacer.

Marius raced from the farmhouse, his brothers in tow. Julian was the only other Payne brave enough to face the impending disaster. Tidus and Quint kept their distance. Varius had brought his Bible—either as a means to bless the event or to wield it as a weapon.

Quint shoved Varius towards Alicia’s leaking puddles. “Oh Christ, oh Christ, oh Christ. What’s it doing, man? What’s wrong with it?”

“She’s having a baby,” I said.

This, Quint couldn’t believe. He stared at the hairless monstrosity and asked what we were all wondering.

“What kind of desperate-ass animal would hump that?”

Julian shared a more practical worry. “Should we be concerned that she’s making more of herself?”

I frowned. “Well, when Micah and I bought her, the farmer said she’d been bullied at the farm. Maybe…he wasn’t watching that closely.”

Tidus snorted. “Wish I could get bullied like that.”

Dad soothed Alicia with a gentle touch to her hindquarters. He surveyed the damage and ordered Chloe to back away from the posterior as her dress was likely to get caught in the deluge. Chloe refused, joining Dad and helping to grip the baby’s shoulders.

They twisted.

Stepped back.

And with a bellow of relief, a second, hairless, repulsive little bugger flooded into the world.

Quint backed away, eyes wide. “This shit’s not right.”

Except…

It was right.

Alicia ignored the veterinarians, the wedding, and her own discomfort to tend to her baby—a tiny little bundle of ugly equally perplexed by his own existence.

And here, I’d thought Alicia was alone, a cranky, hairless alpaca, destined for solitude. Maybe the world didn’t understand her, and maybe Quint tended to light incense and throw sage at her in frantic exorcisms, but now she had a family to help, support, and love.

I reached for Marius, but he didn’t look at me. Didn’t even stretch out his fingers.

Must have shared the same dangerous, humbling fear.

How the hell could the alpaca get pregnant…

And we didn’t have a baby?