Page 149 of It's Always Us

I watch Trig’s eyes go wide. “Do those attach—”

“They’ll fit right inside her bra so she can pump while she works,” Krissy explains casually, and all the guys groan.

“You mean they’re like two little portable milking machines,” Wind asks, one side of his face scrunched. “Does that shit hurt?”

“I don’t know. We should hook you up and find out.” Slade sits slumped down in a chair, a beer bottle hanging between two fingers.

“You aren’t keeping that in the fridge here,” Wind throws out an arm, declaring it’s prohibited. “What if it gets mixed up with—”

“Stop.” Slade cuts him off with a growl, and I can only laugh.

“Damn, boys,” Grandpa gripes from a chair in the back where he’s been relaxing and surveying. “It’s no wonder your sorry asses don’t have a lady.”

Wind rests his head in his hand. “If you have any other grotesque gifts, can you just hold off and save those for home? I think I’ve heard enough about nipple cream, feminine products, and placentas to last me a lifetime.”

“Seriously, jackass. Did you need to use that word again?” Carson shivers.

Krissy lays her hand on Trig’s shoulder, and I promise I hear Slade snarl. “Did you know some women choose to save the placenta? They store it—”

“Oh, for ffff . . . shit’s sake,” Wind holds out his hand to stop Krissy. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Through their pansy complaints, I see Mark pull his phone from his pocket and step down the hallway that leads back to Grandpa’s office.

“Ok,” my mom says, taking the box from me. “Who’s ready for some cake?” Bree jumps up and joins her as I wonder where Mark went. “You want to help me cut it?” my mom asks her.

She nods, and Bob steps up to help move the cake to the workbench. I try to wiggle forward in my seat, and Carson gets up to offer me a hand. He yanks me to my Fred Flintstone feet, but his scowl is pointed at Trig and Krissy, who are busy flirting.Interesting.

I stand, letting my midsection adjust to gravity and space, which is followed by an immediate urge to pee. I waddle to the bathroom and then peek into Grandpa’s office to find Mark leaning against the edge of the desk, staring at his phone.

I move to stand between his legs, sliding my arms around his neck as he sets his phone aside.

“Everything ok?”

His hands glide over my large stomach and clasp behind my lower back.

“Rob wants to ring my neck?”

“Why is that?”

He presses his lips to my forehead and leaves them there. “Denver wants to meet?”

I pull away. “Really? They weren’t on your list.”

“Rob said they’re making some changes and have some extra money in their budget.”

“They have a pretty solid team. Don’t they?” I know they definitely made it to the playoffs last season.

His eyes drop to my belly, and he doesn’t answer right away. “Yeah.”

“When?”

“Next week.”

I move my hands to his shoulders. Linda’s court date is set for next week, and even though we hadn’t decided whether we were going, I suspect his lack of enthusiasm has to do with that.

“You’re going,” I say with conviction, and his eyes pop up to mine. “You’re not staying to hear the gavel drop on what we both know will be a sentence. You being here won’t make her sign the papers relinquishing her rights.”

“Lex . . . ” His tone is soft, but there’s a level of determination to it. “I’m not leaving.”

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