Page 113 of I Can't Even

Cam shrugged. “Even if you weren’t too fat for it, I wouldn’t let you wear it. Grandma got it for me.”

I covered my mouth with my hand and tried to keep the giggles at bay but failed.

My door was opened, and then there was my husband, glaring at me.

“You’re not fat, Hot Cop,” I told him.

He pulled his aviators off and put them on the dash of our brand-new Suburban.

A purchase that happened once a year now since he’d made me get rid of my Corolla after we’d found out that I was pregnant with Cam.

“I have gained a bit of weight,” he admitted.

He’d gained a small amount. All of ten pounds at most. And that happened with my first. It was like his body decided to go into sympathy mode with each baby we had together. Though he lost it a hell of a lot faster than I did after the baby arrived.

His seemed to melt off. Meanwhile, I was still ten pounds overweight from my last pregnancy, and I was pushing thirty-five pounds gained with this one, with no apparent end in sight.

“You gained very little weight compared to me,” I patted my distended belly.

It was so big now that I had to sit farther back and tilt the steering wheel way up.

Oh, the joys of being pregnant with twins.

Goddamn the Carter family genes.

I would’ve been so much more comfortable growing one baby instead of two…

He leaned in until his arms were resting on the ledge of my window. “Why do I like you so much, Calamity?”

I flipped my hair and said, “It’s totally my winning personality.”

The gas pump clicked, and he pushed off the door to replace the nozzle.

When he came back, it was to stop at Cam’s window first and say, “Want Chick-Fil-A, buddy?”

“No,” he denied. “I want burgers.”

Quaid shook his head, swept his beautiful hair off his forehead, and said, “Of course you do.”

When he came back to my window, he said, “What’s your plan today, Calamity?”

I beamed. “We’re meeting the Carter girls for lunch. Then we’re going to the bookstore for story time. Then we’re going to buy new bathing suits for our baby moon.”

His lips turned up into a leer. “A bikini?”

I scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, baby.” He leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth away from mine. “For me?”

I groaned. “Shit.”

“Shit!” Cam cried out.

Quaid shook his head, pushed forward, then kissed me on the lips.

Cam groaned. “Gross!”

“Your kid,” Quaid said.

---