Page 87 of Kilo's Edge

Camila looked up, her eyes wide. “I’m running behind. I-”

Crossing the room, I pulled her into my arms. I ignored the chefs running around as they completed whatever last minutetasks they had. I put my hand on Camila’s hugely pregnant belly. “It’s okay, Mercy. No one even knows that you’re behind. They could sit out there for hours and bullshit and not even realize the food wasn’t out yet. Well, Hellfire and Overdrive might, but everyone else is just excited to be here to support you.”

She put her hands over mine and sucked in a breath. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“How are my girls doing today?” I asked, looking down at where my daughter was resting within her belly.

“Good,” she said with a smile. “We’re good.”

I kissed her, cupping her cheek with my free hand. “This is going to go off without a hitch,” I told her. “Everyone is dying to eat your delicious food again.”

Camila had cooked for every person out in that dining room many times over the years. They loved it as much as they loved her. This was a new, fancy place but the food was going to be the same and it was always fucking amazing. Just like she was. She’d once told me that I’d changed her life, but it was her who made mine better. She’d given me her heart, then she’d given me my children. There wasn’t one fucking day that I wasn’t grateful she’d moved in next door to me. There wasn’t one damn day that would go by where she wondered about how much I loved her.

“Need any help?” I asked.

She smiled, face calm once again and shook her head. “No. You’ve helped enough just by reminding me that I have this.”

“You do.”

“I know. Go out, sit with the guys. Make sure Mama isn’t too nervous, please.”

Camila and her mother had created this business together and Lucia was just as nervous as my wife had been a few minutes ago. I kissed Camila again. “See you in a bit.”

She waved me away, her mind already diving back into whatever she needed to do in order to finish up in the kitchen.

Walking back into the dining room, I looked around. I went over to Lucia to check in on her, but she was already sitting down with Prissy, having a glass of wine.

“Don’t worry, we’re fine,” Prissy said with a grin as she lifted the bottle.

“They’ll be three sheets in about thirty minutes,” Roger predicted, though he said it under his breath so his wife wouldn’t hear.

Laughing, I went over and sat down at the tables the guys had shoved together. The waitstaff looked a little frazzled that a bunch of bikers had taken the romantic atmosphere and ruined it by sliding the heavy wooden tables together so that Phoenix, Tucson, and Wyoming brothers could all sit together.

Bolo was talking with some of the Wyoming guys, telling them about one of our latest run-ins, while Ruck, Lockout, and Cypher commiserated on running their clubs and keeping men like us in line. I was pretty sure we weren’t that bad. Then again, I watched as Butcher, Toxic, and Relay all downed a line of shots together. It probably was about to be a wild night. It always was when any of us were involved. Add all three clubs? Phew. I felt bad for whoever had to clean up after tonight’s festivities.

I scowled when I realized it would probably be me. “Put that down,” I snapped as Toxic picked up the candle in the middle of one of the tables. “You burn my wife’s restaurant down on night one and I’ll have to beat your ass.”

Toxic chuckled. “I could use some practice,” he taunted.

“Not tonight,” Lockout sighed, then looked at the other presidents like, see? This is what I put up with.

“You took him into your club,” Cypher said with a shrug. “I tried to warn you.”

“I’m not so bad,” Toxic said, an offended look on his face.

All the old ladies were sitting at their own tables and Toxic’s wife looked over at him and shook her head. “You're the best of them, Sweetie.”

Toxic winked at her, smiling from ear to ear.

“Bro, I think she just called you the best of the worst,” OD pointed out. “Or the best at being the worst.” Ravi was already asleep in his arms. Turned out OD was amazing with kids. Who knew?

The grin slipped off Toxic’s face. “Hey.”

We all laughed and Drifter brought over a pitcher of beer.

“Where did you get that?” I asked. Camila didn’t have options for pitchers of beer. It came by the glass.

“From the keg,” Drifter replied.

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