Page 105 of Bad Boy Neighbor

“Princess, how about I get that drink for you?”

“I think you’ve done enough,” she snarls.

Olly is in the kitchen, eyes wide and hiding from Lana. He isn’t a fan of cooking but smartly offered to prepare the salad and garlic bread to avoid her.

Poor Sebastian, I will give credit where credit is due. He has been taking care of Ace, doing everything he can for Lana to make her comfortable, yet this baby is refusing to come out.

Escaping to the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of iced tea. Lana is a ticking timebomb.

I lean in to whisper to Oliver. “Was I this bad when Maverick was born?”

“You had your moments…”

I playfully punch him in the arm. Though, truthfully, Olly had the patience of a saint when I was pregnant.

“She looks miserable.”

“Any day now,” he says, chopping up the cucumber. “Seb and I have a bet running.”

“What... that’s awful,” I scold him. “Lana’s about to give birth. This is an important moment. No bets should be placed on?—”

“I want in,” Lana shouts from the sofa. “How much?”

Sebastian sighs. “Princess, I hardly think?—”

“One hundred bucks buy-in,” Olly states, wiping his hands on the dishtowel. “I’ve locked in Friday.”

“And you?” Lana stares at Sebastian with a less-than-enthused expression. “The instigator of all this madness.”

Sebastian scratches the back of his neck, torn between participating or keeping his mouth shut. “I’ve locked in Thursday.”

“Fine, I’ll take tomorrow,” Lana agrees, rubbing her stomach.

“Well, fine.” I throw my hands up in the air. “If you’re all playing, I’m in. I’m locking in tonight.”

There’s a hush over the room. Sebastian closes his eyes as if he’s saying a silent prayer. Lana shakes her head, shrugging off the notion.

“That’s a mighty big bet, Gabs.”

“Look at her,” I tell hem. Everyone turns around to look at Lana. “Her stomach has dropped, it’s almost touching her goddamn knees. She cleaned our pantry and even labeled all of the containers with color-coded stickers and stocked them in alphabetical order.”

“So, I like things in order,” Lana exhales.

“And you keep asking Sebastian to rub your lower back because your back pain is intolerable.”

Olly raises his hand, quick to command the room.

“We’re all locked in,” he informs us. “Now, let’s have dinner, and for Christ’s sake, Lana, keep your legs shut till Friday.”

Olly lifts Maverick onto his lap as he attempts to eat his spaghetti bolognese. Ace sits beside him, infatuated with Maverick’s chubby little feet.

I serve myself a plate and welcome the glass of wine since I stopped breastfeeding months ago. Boy, did I miss the simple things.

Maverick Miles Madden is exactly five months and three days old. Our wicked week of making up resulted in me getting pregnant straightaway. To say we were shocked would have been an understatement.

At the time, I argued science and swore you could get pregnant doing anal. I blamed Olly’s radioactive sperm with supernatural powers fighting through my diaphragm. It took us days to wrap the pregnancy around our heads until our first ultrasound when it finally sunk in.

We couldn’t haven’t asked for a more precious baby. Maverick has everyone wrapped around his chubby little fingers. He’s the spitting image of Olly—nothing at all like me.

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