Page 12 of Momcom Vacation

Liv has a point. In the years we’ve been friends, we have worked through more than our fair share of shit. But each time, we’ve come out better for it. Maybe I need to embrace whatever this girls’ weekend throws at me.

Chapter 7

Liv

“Have you tried wine? A little liquid courage never hurt anyone,” Shay says.

As we brainstorm ways for Delia to spice up her life, it’s hard not to daydream about having a bed to myself and a nice bottle of wine. And a good book.

The bed I’ve got, at least while we’re in the Keys. It’ll be a long time before I can have the wine, though. And once the twins are born, I can’t imagine I’ll have much time to read. This pregnancy has dragged on for what feels like forever, and once the babies are here, we’ll spend the next eighteen years parenting without more than a hint of peace and quiet here and there.

I can all but guarantee that eighteen years from now, Beckett will still be sitting in bed, staring at me, waiting for me to pay attention to him.

I can’t help but laugh. My husband is obsessed. With him, every day is a surprise. Never did I think I’d see the day when Beckett Langfield would be happiest wearing sweats while making pancakes for our kids. But that’s exactly what’s happened. When he’s not traveling with the Revs, Saturday mornings are mostly glorious. I get to wake up in the arms of a man who loves me. A man who literally worships the groundI walk on. We tune out the screaming and yelling downstairs—Finn and Addie love to chase our oversized mut Deogi around the house—and make love. After, while I shower and get ready for the day, Beckett heads to Winnie’s room to wake her up. Then the two of them make pancakes while she tells him about what’s happened at school that week.

One morning a few months ago, I tried to skip my shower and join them, but Beckett gently requested that I allow him to keep that special time with his girl.

I was knocked up with twins the next month.

There is absolutely nothing sexier than when he shows up for our kids.

“You just need to relax.” Dylan sits up like she’s had an epiphany.

I do the opposite. I snuggle back into my chair. I don’t want anything to do with the over-the-top scheme she’s cooking up.

“You know,” she says, “loosen up. I’ve got the perfect plan.”

Delia straightens and pulls her shoulders back. “I like plans.”

Without my permission, a snort escapes me. She pins me with a glare, but when I rub my oversized belly, her eyes soften. It’s impossible to be mad at a pregnant lady. It’s science or something. Especially when the pregnant lady is carrying twins.

Shay closes her eyes. “My plan is to relax with this margarita and then take my toys for a spin. I’m thinking of taking Channing for a ride today.”

Shading my eyes with my hand, I peek over at her. “Doesn’t Rowan get upset when you use toys that aren’t named after him?”

“A little jealousy works wonders for a marriage.” She winks at me, then points to Delia. “Write that one down. Add that to your plan.”

Dylan shakes her head. “She doesn’t need to play games with Enzo. She needs to communicate. But she can’t do that until she relaxes, which is why we’re going Jet-Skiing.”

Delia’s nodding along like she’s in complete agreement until the last word registers. “Wait, Jet-Skiing?”

Dylan stands, her flowy gold coverup twinkling in the sunlight. “Yup.” She points to the water, where a man on a personal watercraft is driving in circles, causing a whirlpool of waves.

“I’m not sure that looks safe.”

“I’m with Liv,” Shay agrees. “Thousands of people die in the ocean each year.”

Dylan waves her hand dismissively. “The universe provided us with a Jet Ski. Who are we to judge what itlooks—she uses air quotes around the word—like? Come on, Liv. Livea little.”

“That’s my intention. To live a little right here on this chair while I watch the two of you living a lot.”

With a smile, Dylan grasps Delia’s hand and pulls her to her feet.

“I’m not sure,” Delia says, scanning the ocean.

“That’s the problem. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”

“Yeah, Del.” Shay sets her margarita on the small table beside her and slides her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, apparently no longer concerned about the dangerous waters. “Get a little power between those thighs. Remember what it feels like.” She makes a revving sound, then dissolves into a fit of laughter.

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