Ellie
When I woke up the next morning, there was a lot of bustling noise and women’s voices coming from the living room and kitchen, and it made no sense to me. It wasn’t even eight yet. Since Peter’s last feeding, I’d managed to pull another two hours of sleep in, but the grog ruled my brain.
I rolled into a squat and eased my way up to standing, stretching out my back and legs and arms as I went, trying to get some blood flowing up north, but sleep mode had me in a tight lockdown.
By rote, I checked on Peter. He was still asleep, and the monitor was on. I wandered into the living room, my eyes barely opened. My body moved of its own volition toward the kitchen, seeking the coffeemaker by muscle memory—no credit due to my brain.
“Great, you’re up! Good morning! Oooh, today is going to be so much fun! But we have…”
Whoever it was was talking an awful lot. I tried to listen at first, but gave up fairly quickly; the words wouldn’t register yet, anyway. There were at least two or three female bodies moving around, in various colors. I saw blue jeans, a yellow skirt, a white top, some pinks…yep, women. Was Jack having a party? This early in the morning? Huh. Maybe I should be insulted.
Still, they seemed happy. I didn’t want to be rude. “Mmerng.”
Jack stood with his hip to the breakfast bar, arms crossed over his chest. I got confused with all the bodies in the way, and lost track of where I had been headed, and why. So I stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, muddled.
“Ellie. Look at me.”
Did he have to sound so dominant? Pshhht. I guessed he did. He couldn’t help himself. But it was kind of nice to have some direction all the same, so I looked at him.
He was watching me with a strange expression, like he was angry but about to laugh at the same time.
“Coffee.”
Oh! Right. Coffee. That’s what I came in here for. Coffee.
I nodded and looked around to see where I might find the coffeemaker.
“Ellie, it’s next to the fridge.”
I located it and moved to the counter where it perched. After standing in front of it for a few seconds, I remembered to find the mugs in the cabinet above.
The ladies were still buzzing around in their own high-pitched world, and I was not tuning in yet. But what I did hear was Jack’s low rumble of a chuckle, and he came up behind me just as I was putting the carafe back onto the hotplate. He put an arm around my shoulders, in front of me, pulling me back into his chest and putting his lips close to my ear. “I can’t stay mad at you when you’re like this. But I am mad at you, and we will talk later.” His voice was so low, I was pretty sure nobody else could hear what he said. I’m not even sure that’s exactly what he said, but that was the gist of it.
The thing was, he hadn’t touched me in a few days. Not at all. Not even close. So suddenly having him hold me from behind, and whisper in my ear—my body responded immediately. Awake or not, I flushed and felt the usual dampness between my legs. It was getting ridiculous. The man barely had to look in my direction, and I got turned on. With him draped over my back, I could smell his scent just that much easier, and of course my physical response had me blushing immediately.
He noticed. And he started to get hard in response. I could feel his cock rise against my lower back, and he subtly pressed himself against me, wanting me to feel him, too. I started having problems breathing, and I wanted more. I was about to turn around and…
“Oh my God, you two are too cute together. But knock it off! Jack-o, get out of here. You’re not even supposed to see her today. Go away! Go on! Shoo!”
Jack held my upper chest tighter for a moment, dipped his head and bit my neck where it met my shoulder and growled low in frustration. My knees nearly melted out from under me, but somehow managed to keep me upright when he released me and left the room. I was still facing my full coffee mug, now turned on and completely at a loss to comprehend the activity around me.
Coffee. Yes. I turned to the refrigerator, pulled out the milk, doctored up my mug, and sipped. Eyes closed, swaying slightly, and I began to focus on the sounds of the ladies again.
“…so we have to hustle, honey. Ellie? Are you listening? Come on, girl. Snap to. Or you’re going to be late to your own wedding!” And she and the other women laughed at her big joke.
Except—crap! She was right. We were getting married today—but wait. How did she know that? Nobody knew. Or, nobody was supposed to know. How did she know?
I turned around to face the room again, and found the three witches of Tucson all hovering nearby. My synapses were beginning to fire at a faster pace now, and recognition set in. I had met these ladies earlier in the week; they were all married or partnered with guys from Jack’s MC. They were super nice, and had brought us foodstuffs and baby stuffs and well wishes and offers to help in whatever ways I might need. They didn’t even know me at all, and they had put themselves out to be kind and generous for me and for Peter.
Whereas my first instinct had been to shut them down this morning, I re-calibrated and decided it was more important I understand what they were saying, and what they were doing here.
“Um, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot in the mornings. Can we start over? What…”
“Oh, honey, you are funny. Sure thing.” I recognized the pretty brunette with massively long eyelashes and the body of a fertility goddess as Holly. She was clearly the ringleader. “We’re here to take you to Maggie’s salon. It’s not far, but she has you scheduled for the whole shebang today, so we gotta get going. First thing is set for 8:30. Now, you don’t need anything, really, just you and a pair of flip-flops. We have so much to do! Drink up, chica! Where’s that precious baby of yours? I’m on Peter duty first. I’ll take care of him, he’s coming along—don’t worry—but we have to move, move, move!”
She was a full-on whirlwind.
I gestured in the direction of my bedroom, intending to show that I was headed back there myself to get dressed and gather Peter’s stuff, but she raced in front of me, apparently in hot pursuit of my baby. Okay, then.
The bottle-blonde with the yellow skirt and white tank, who I thought was named Lana, pulled her arm through mine and guided me along the same trail. “We’re about the same size, right? I figured you probably don’t have a dress and all the right stuff. You can’t get married in street clothes, honey. So I brought everything you’ll need—it’s all in my car—and Vero here”—she indicated the third woman, a tiny little thing who appeared to be mixed Asian-American, and stunning—“is a fantabulous seamstress. She is an artiste! So whatever nips and tucks need doing, she’ll do it. You are going to look incredible. Not that you need any help in that department, but still, a bride wants to feel special. Am I right? Wedding is set for five-thirty. It is going to be amaze-balls, darlin’! Oooo! Today is going to be so much fun!”
Wow. Today was not going to be anything like what I had been figuring. From the sounds of their talk, today was going to be like…a real wedding.
And I didn’t know if I was ready for that.