Moonshine affects people in many different ways. The drink makes Hayes freakishly mellow while my dad now thinks everything is fricking hilarious. For Chipper, the moonshine makes him very fond of animals, especially Jimmy.

“This dog just gets me, you know?” he says to me while rubbing his face against Jimmy’s. “He sees into my soul.”

Working at the grill, I mutter, “As long as your affection for him is platonic, have at it.”

“He has an old soul,” Chipper babbles, still snuggling the dog who is maybe thinking of ditching me for his new love. “I bet he knows how the universe came to be.”

“Are you high?” Uncle Emmett asks.

“No, are you?” Chipper says and shares an annoyed look with Jimmy.

The dog licks Chipper’s face, sending the grown man into silly giggles. I laugh despite my irritation at the sloshed men around me. Oh, and Meemaw Coretta isn’t helping by yelling that she hears a chopper and we might be under attack.

Soon, the back door opens, and the women head outside. When Cricket focuses on me, I love how she smiles when her gaze meets mine.

“What about Murphy?” she asks once at my side. “It was Christine’s suggestion, and the name means ‘sea warrior’ which is super perfect to go with his sister’s fish name.”

“Murphy, huh? Let the name sit awhile with Minnow,” I say, kissing her head. “Are you okay?”

“Painfully fat, but good otherwise. Have you enjoyed the moonshine?”

“No. I figured if you couldn’t drink it, I shouldn’t either.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet. Notice how my brother’s sympathetic pregnancy doesn’t extend to drinking habits.”

Chipper notices Cricket looking at him and waves at her with Jimmy’s paw.

“I think your brother loves my dog.”

“That’s weird. He’s a cat person.”

“Moonshine is a helluva thing.”

Cricket laughs at her brother before cooing over how he plays on all fours with Jimmy. Even entertained by his antics, she remains close to me while I serve pulled pork sandwiches to Candy and the Earlham women who now sit with their corresponding men.

Peepaw shuffles behind me, refilling everyone’s cups. When I return to the grill, he continues to follow me.

“What?” I ask, wary of him spiking my drink since he said earlier I was a giant pussy for not getting drunk off my ass just because my fat wife couldn’t.

“I don’t see a ring on your girl’s finger, Felix,” he says, pointing at Cricket who instinctively smacks away his hand. “Does that mean you’re living in sin or did her fingers get too fat to wear the ring?”

“I feel as if I’ve answered this question already.”

“You can feel however you want, boy, but no one has to give a shit.”

“My fingers aren’t too fat,” Cricket says. “They’re the only part of my body that hasn’t gained weight, so I want credit for that.”

“I got huge when I was pregnant,” Justice announces. “Not as fat as Journey, but who could?”

My older aunt doesn’t take the insult from her younger sister well, and a chase ensues. I hear Justice screaming from the detached garage and assume she lost badly.

“What Cricket and I do isn’t your problem, old timer.”

“Living in sin will have you burning in hell.” Peepaw Zeb warns me from his spot next to his ex-wife who he still bangs and occasionally lives with. I consider pointing out this hypocrisy, but Zeb is nearly a million years old—according to Justice anyway. No reason to get him riled up. If his kicker gave out from me making a stink over such a minor issue, I’d never hear the end of it.

“That’s my problem. You worry about your soul.”

“I’m kosher, boy.”

“I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

“Few words do,” Grandpa Jared mutters, giving my dad a smile.

Cricket walks to me and wraps an arm around my waist, so we’re side-by-side. “Marriage is a bougee concept. Living in sin sounds vastly cooler. Let’s do that.”

“What’s bougee?” Poppy asks.

Cricket scowls at my aunt. “What’s a queef?”

“You have internet access.”

“So do you, blondie. Look bougee the fuck up.”

“Yeah!” Chipper yells from his spot on the lawn with Jimmy. “Everyone get their phones and learn something new for the day!”

I adjust my stance so Cricket and I are away from the growing insanity of people yelling out words they don’t know.

“What is a neckbeard?” Uncle Emmett asks. “And why do people keep calling me that?”

“What’s a Hells Angels red wing?” Aunt Poppy demands.

Cricket shudders at the last question. “She will not like the answer.”

“Let’s take a short walk,” I say, wanting her to myself.

“How short?”

“If you get tired, I’ll carry you.”

“I’m too fat.”

“Fine, then I’ll drag you by the hair like you’re my cave bitch. Now come along before we’re sucked into their conversation.”

Laughing, Cricket walks with me away from the deck. “For Halloween, we should dress like ‘The Flintstones.’”

“And the babies can be Bamm-Bamm and Pebbles.”

“Aww, you watched the show too.”

Ignoring her cooing, I ask, “Do you really not want to get married?”

“I’m not against marriage if you want to do it, but I don’t need it to be happy,” she says, flashing me a big smile. “Marriage is just a legal thing for the government. I won’t love you more by having a piece of paper stamped by a bureaucrat.”

“I always thought we’d get married,” I say, running a hand through my hair.

“Then ask me to fucking marry you. I’ll say yes, and we’ll have Peepaw Zeb or Bianca Bella go online to get ordained so they can legally marry us. Done deal.”

“Should I get down on one knee?” I ask while nuzzling her throat.

“Do what you want, fucker. I am agreeable to whatever your heart desires,” she murmurs before adding, “Unless it involves fisting because that’s just not fucking happening.”

Studying her blissful brown eyes, I’m certain I look like a fool in love with all the smiling I’ve done today. Nevertheless, I say, “Today is not proposing day.”

“Is it because I mentioned fisting?”

“Mainly yes.”

“You have big hands,” she says and rests them on her belly. “A woman has her limits.”

“I’m thinking we should stop talking about fisting.”

“Well, then stop bringing it up,” she says, laughing at her own bullshit. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Is it about fisting?”

“No, it’s about where you live,” she says, gesturing to my trailer. “Hey, wait, isn’t your club called Rawkfist? Does the initiation involve fisting and that’s why you keep bringing it up?”

“You don’t like my trailer. Is that what you mean to say?”

Cricket pats my face while I fondle her belly. “Your insecurities are a huge turnoff. I like my men arrogant.”

“Well, I happen to like my fricking trailer, so your opinion is wrong, woman!” I holler before laughing at her slow-clapping response.

“Can you picture it?” she asks while tugging at my shirt. “Our twins running around the property with Jimmy following behind.”

Unable to tell if she’s messing with me or not, I still nod because I’ve seen that image in my mind since I learned she was pregnant.

“I like it here,” she says and covers her eyes as she looks out at the property through the falling sun. “The town could be sweaty balls, but this setup you have here is very cool. I’d love to be able to walk to my parents’ house or Chipper’s. A little community consisting of your family feels cozy.”

“You do like it,” I say, wrapping my arms around her chest as I lean her back against me. “This is my home, but I belong with you. If you hated it here, I’d give it up.”

“I’d have to be a cruel bitch to ask you to give up your family, and I’m well known for being just a regular bitch,” she says and tilts her head back so our lips can meet.

My hands caress her belly, chasing the babies’ kicks. “I love you,” I whisper when our lips part.

“Then promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” I reply even while instantly worrying what I’ve agreed to.

“When the twins are older, promise we can build a house like your parents have. I can’t imagine toddlers and all their crap fitting in the trailer.”

“That’s it?”

“Sure, what else would I want?”

“A fancy mansion like yours in White Horse.”

“Exactly. I already have one, so why would I need another?” she says and turns around. “I figure we’ll be driving out here a few times a month and maybe more when Murphy and Minnow are bigger. They’ll need more space for their stuff. That way, we won’t need to bring everything with us each trip. We’ll have a home here and one in White Horse. The twins will grow up knowing they belong to both families.”

Sighing, I admit, “I guess I am a little insecure about my place after seeing yours.”

“Well, mine is better, but yours is great too. Just less great,” she teases. “That’s no reason to feel insecure. Our kids will grow up respecting both families. Or at least they’ll fake it like I do with my grandparents and their honky lifestyle.”

“I still don’t get why they’re honkys, and you aren’t.”

“Oh, I’m a honky too. Years ago, I used the word around them, and they were fucking horrified that I can never not think of them as honkys. Is that a problem, honky boy?”

“If you weren’t so pregnant, I would chase you with a water pistol until you were too wet to remain dressed.”

“If I weren’t so pregnant, I’d let you do that, but there’s no denying, I’m complaining for three here.”

“How do your ankles feel?” I ask, noticing they’re swollen. “You should sit down with your feet up.”

“Who says?” she asks, waddling next to me back to the deck.

I think to take credit for knowing about swollen ankles and high blood pressure, but in fact, my dad was the one who noticed earlier. He came up to me while I was grilling and whispered the advice in my ear. His stealth fathering is one of the things I’ve always loved about him. The man never expects credit for his every success. I don’t either, so I admit to Cricket where I got the idea. Her smile widens when I fess up. My woman knows I’m still a work in progress. She is too. That’s why we accept there’s no shame in needing our families.