Page 108 of Force At Third

“Not now.” She turns and looks at me. Then she closes her eyes as I dip down to kiss her nose.

“Haven’t seen this one. Tan one and the dark gray, never maroon.”

“I stole the tan one from Mom when I went to college, and it was like wearing one of her hugs. The gray one, I thrifted and pretended it was my dad’s when asked.”

“Yeah?”

She nods.

“And this one?”

She smiles and turns back to look at the moon’s reflection on the water. “I stole this from you the night we broke up. It’s your letterman sweater.”

“I like that,” I admit.

“That I’m a cardigan thief?”

“Don’t mind that at all, but I love that you’re talking on a deeper level.”

“Don’t get used to it. Apparently, all these hormones are making me a giant ball of mush.”

I rest my chin on her shoulder. “I love you in all your forms.”

“That’s a good thing, because I’m all over the place.” She leans back into me. “And Locke, I love you the same.”

“I know.” I smile.

A few minutes of silence passes, and then she clears her throat. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t mention this earlier with all the excitement and all, but when Mom and I were walking to the beach, and I was under the impression she just wanted to see the sunrise with me, she told me all three moms were in the kitchen when I went off last night.”

“No shit?”

“Nope. She was acting shady, and I called her on it. They heard a few things.”

“Like?”

“Me going off about ‘Our Song,’ pro-baller cum, Big Mac’s and, yeah, me telling you to fuck rocks.”

“I wanna laugh, but more than that, I don’t wanna piss you off, so go on.”

She sighs. “She, well, they heard me say she was a strong role model and that she’d fight a bag of bones to protect my child if I got locked up for murder. She told me, of course, she would, but asked that I not get locked up. And then I made her promise not to talk about me being pregnant because of what happened in college.”

I pull her closer as she exhales.

“And then she freaked because, well, they didn’t hear that part.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Mmhmm. I made her promise not to tell. Not a word would be said, not even to Annie, until an actual baby was in my arms because I couldn’t handle it emotionally or physically.”

“And?”

“Of course, she promised. Jesus, Locke.”

“All right,” I say.

“Then she laughed and told me that she, Annie, and Theresa laughed their asses off when they later discussed my mental breakdown.”

“Okay, then that’s all there is to it.”

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