Page 147 of Chaos at Westbrook High

She wasn’t regretting it.

She had so much love for someone she’d never met before, for someone she’d only just found out existed, that it was consuming her. Damon stayed with her on the bathroom floor, and she hugged herself for a long time, rocking herself back and forth as her tears tracked down her face.

“Kai.”

I blink, finding Callie watching me with a knowing look, her hip leaning against the counter. I run away like a pussy, heading upstairs to find my sweet, beautiful wife. When I peek into our dark bedroom, I playfully narrow my eyes at her. She’s not sleeping, she’s reading. When she sees me, she covers the bottom half of her face with her kindle, hiding her guilty smile. She knows she never has to feel guilty about having some time to herself, but I love to tease my girl.

“You little shit.”

She laughs, sitting up and holding her grabby hands out. I go to her. Pulling the blanket back, I kneel on the bed and straddle her thighs. Her hands land on my waist as I hold out the decaf iced coffee. She sips hers through the straw while I scoop the whipped cream off mine with my tongue.

“Quinn called Wren Dad.”

With the straw between her lips, her brows jump.

“She played it cool. No one made a big deal out of it,” I tell her. “Well, Blakely did.”

“Of course she did.” Hailey chuckles. “Girl’s got a big mouth.”

Just like her dad.

I grin, setting the coffees down on the nightstand and leaning down, my hands pressed into the mattress on either side of her head while I kiss her sweet mouth. “Do you have to work today?”

“No. I’m taking the day off.”

My grin grows at the thought of being able to spend the entire day with her. After we graduated college, Damon, Wren, Levi, and I went to work with my dad, learning the ropes before he eventually steps down and hands the empire over to us, and Hailey and Callie went into business together. They run Valerie’s together now, as well as two indie bookstores, one in Westbrook, and one in LA. They’ve worked with authors all over the world, but their goal is to get as many independently published books on their shelves as possible. They also have a podcast and are pretty popular on bookish social media. Ten years ago, Hailey would have hated all the attention they’re getting, but now, she’s confident enough to put herself out there and talk about what she loves, promoting the books and authors, and giving them the visibility they deserve. The book community loves them. Some of the authors and their fellow readers have even come from out of state to visit their bookstores just to meet them in person. It’s a dream come true for them.

When we renovated the penthouse after Blakely and Travis were born, we added three more bedrooms upstairs, and a library downstairs, which is filled with books from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. That’s where they film most of their content and record their podcast.

“Does Callie know?”

I nod, moving my mouth down to her neck. “I think so.”

“Is she mad?”

“Not mad, just…okay, maybe a little mad. She knows we’re keeping something from her.”

She groans. “I’m the worst sister ever.”

“Nah. She loves the fuck out of you. I know she’s excited even if she’s pretending she’s pissed.” Crawling down her body, I lift her oversized shirt and push it up to her ribs, kissing the skin below her belly button. “We’re gonna have to run for our lives if it’s twins though.”

“What?”

“I think it’s twins, Hails,” I whisper, gently kissing her twice. “Two boys.”

She smacks me upside the head, her jaw dropped in outrage. “Why would you say that? Why would you even think that into existence?”

I laugh and keep kissing her. She sighs contentedly and sinks back into the pillows, her eyes filling with tears as she whispers, “I think it’s twins too.”

I snap my eyes up. “For real?”

She nods, sniffing as the tears fall.

“I love it when you cry like this,” I confess, reaching up to catch one with my thumb. “When you’re so happy you can’t contain it. You’re beautiful.”

Taking my hand, she holds my palm against her face. “You say that to me every day.”

“And I’ll keep saying it.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the squished up daisy our daughters and I picked for her this morning and hand it to her. “Every day, baby girl.”

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