Page 8 of Over and Above

“How’s work going?” I asked him in a bid to be conversational.

“Great.” Not letting go of Maren, he beamed at me. “I’ve got my forklift certification now, and I put in for a shift lead opening that has better hours.”

“Excellent.” I gave a tight smile. He was trying to be responsible. I could give the kid that, but I continued to struggle to see how he and Maren would make this raising-a-baby thing work.

After Declan left, I excused myself to take a long-overdue nap. Perhaps Magnus had a point. I could be rather cranky. Closer to dinner time, I awoke to a quiet house, which was something I needed to get used to. John was camping with friends. Rowan was already in LA. Wren was quietly occupied in their room on their computer. Maren was lying on the couch in the living room with a damp washcloth on her head, and Diesel sat on the floor next to her.

“Still nauseous?” I came to stand behind the couch, closer to the entryway, feeling rather helpless, which I actively tried to avoid. “What have you kept down?”

“The limeade.” Maren offered a half-smile. “Mostly.”

“No chance I could talk you into some IV fluids?”

“Yeah, because we keep IV kits laying around the house.” Even dehydrated and nauseated, Maren’s eye roll was on point. “I’m fine.”

“Is there anything you think you might keep down for dinner?” Diesel asked before I could.

“Some of those cold sesame noodles from your dad’s place.” Maren had more of a real smile for him. “And the smashed potato things? I have dreams about those.”

Me too.I couldn’t admit that, but I certainly understood the craving. And for Maren, I’d even chance another encounter with Magnus.

“Call the order in, and I can pick it up.”

“Already texted my dad.” Diesel held up his phone. “He’ll bring the food over. Maren and I want to talk to you both together anyway.”

Magnus and me in the same room? With some sort of big conversation on the line? That seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, but all I said was a very fake, “Great.”

Chapter Five

Magnus

Diesel’s text came at the perfect time. It was a sleepy weeknight leading up to the big Fourth of July weekend, yet I’d booked plenty of servers for the whole week to ensure we were ready for the rush. Accordingly, I wasn’t needed to serve as a bartender or emergency waitstaff. I’d also been curious how Maren was holding up because every update from Diesel was another report of her ongoing morning sickness. And if I was…curious where Eric was concerned, well, that was simply a bonus.

I had our kitchen put together a large order then headed to Eric’s nearby house in a historic neighborhood filled with other large homes. I also owned an older home, but my neighborhood was decidedly more working class, dotted with small homes from the 1930s and 40s. While I was debating whether to ring the front bell or go to the side door, Diesel met me in the driveway, where his beloved ancient sports car was already parked. He would need something more carseat-friendly, but that was a conversation for another time.

“Dad to the rescue.” I held out the big bag of food and the drink I’d picked for Maren.

“Thanks.” Diesel motioned for me to follow him to the kitchen door. “Come in.”

“You sure that’s okay?” This wasn’t our house, and Diesel could be a bit clueless about things like social norms.

“Maren and I want to talk to you and Eric.” Diesel set the bag of food on the counter and started unpacking it. In keeping with the rest of the house, the kitchen was large and expansive, tastefully renovated with stainless steel appliances and newer white cabinetry.

Uh-oh.Diesel didn’t usually do serious talks. My gut hadn’t exactly unclenched since the news of Maren’s pregnancy, so I wasn’t surprised when a fresh cramp hit. Eric and I were undoubtedly in a race to see who could spring an ulcer by winter.

“That sounds ominous.”

“It’s…not.” Diesel was the worst liar, complete with shifty eyes and quirked lips. He fetched a plate from a cabinet and plated Maren’s food for her.

“You don’t sound very sure.” Following Diesel’s lead, I grabbed a plate and arranged some food for Eric. “I brought Eric steak bites and his own order of smashed potatoes. Maybe that will soften him for whatever you and Maren want to tell us.”

“Here’s hoping.” Diesel led the way into the living room, where Maren was sitting on the couch talking with Eric, who was sitting in a recliner. He looked tired, with heavy eyes and slumped shoulders, and I wished I had more than food to offer.

“Dinner.” I held out the plate.

“For me too?” Eric’s eyes widened.

“Yeah. Figured I’d bring enough for the family. I remembered your other kid likes bacon, so I brought a personal pizza for them with bacon and extra cheese. It’s in a box on the kitchen counter.”

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