Page 108 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
I freeze, mid-rise, probably looking like a combination of a hunch-back and a deer in headlights. “What did you do?”
Brit holds up her arm, flashing her smart watch at me. “I texted her while you were tinseling.” There isn’t an ounce of apology in her voice. “She called me earlier and asked me to tell her if you reached out or showed up.”
I straighten to my full height, narrowing my eyes at her. “You said you hadn’t talked to her.”
Brit shrugs, completely unaffected by my posturing. “I lied.”
My shoulders drop as I sigh. “I can’t belie—”
A door closes somewhere in the house. “Where are you two?”
“Be right there!” Brit calls out, then reaches into the box, pulling out a tree topper. She turns and hands it to me.
I need two hands to hold the large, hollow cherry.
“Make sure it’s straight.”
I thread the top vertical branch through the bottom of the cherry, grumbling about untrustworthy sisters.
But when it’s on, and straight, I step back, appreciating the cherry on top. “That actually looks pretty cool.”
“Yep. Saw it on Pinterest.” Then she strides out of the room, expecting me to follow.
Rose
“You’re pregnant,”Holt says for the third time.
Flynn hasn’t said anything, which is worse.
I took Mike’s advice and called my brothers to meet me at the ranch. It’s a testament to how much Flynn and Holt must’ve been worried about me that they didn’t even ask me why. They just showed up.
Hashtag brotherly love.
So now here we are. All three Wests, sitting in the ranch’s living room that’s decorated in rustic Christmas splendor, my brothers shell-shocked and me very thankful for the pitstop I made to my apartment after having the amazing forethought that the baby news might land better if I wasn’t dressed like a slutty Mrs. Claus.
Hashtag ho-ho-no.
And although we’re all older, and Holt and Flynn hopefully more mature and level-headed, I can’t help but feel like I’m a kid again. Waiting for them to decide my fate, like they did all those years ago when our parents died.
“Yes. I’m pregnant,” I answer, even though it wasn’t a question. Maybe if I say it again it’ll sink in.
Holt nods, staring straight ahead at the mantle wreath decorated with lights and shotgun shells, his body unmoving on the comfy, oversized linen-colored sofa Jules bought recently. Or rather, hired someone to buy as Jules couldn’t care less about interior design as long as her ass was happy when she sat.
One thing in my favor is that Jules isn’t here. She’s staying over at her Clear Lake apartment due to an early morning flight simulation scheduled for tomorrow. Holt was there when I called and not at the ranch like I’d thought. But even though the weekends are when he gets to spend the most time with Jules due to their busy schedules, he still drove here when I said I wanted to talk.
My brothers mean a lot to me, and it’s nice to know it’s reciprocated.
A minute later, when both Holt and Flynn continue to stare off in different directions, I decide I might as well lay it all out for them.
Clasping my hands together on my lap, I sit up straight on the loveseat. “Just so you know, I’m keeping the baby.”
No reaction.
“Vance is the father.”
Flynn grunts. I have no idea what that means, but just to be safe, I decide not to tell them how Vance took the news.
Palms sweating, I release them, rubbing them on the cushions beside me. “And I know this may sound crazy or naïve, but I’m actually happy.” Well, mostly. “About being a mom, I mean.” That’s closer to the truth.
