Page 52 of Operation Annulment
I take a deep breath to center myself, and Nate brushes my arm with his. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Fine.” I can’t be upset. It’s not like she’s asked me for money since she got out of jail.
Zane looks back and forth between us. “Okay then. Welcome. Nate, good to see you. Kate, can I get you anything? Water? Tequila shots?”
Nate immediately cracks up and high-fives Zane. “That was great. Way to break the ice, man.”
The mention of tequila turns my stomach, and I shake my head. “I think I’m okay. I’m going to go find Dakota.”
Nate eyes the sling on Zane’s arm. “So, law enforcement? I never would’ve guessed. How’s the shoulder healing? Who was your surgeon?”
I leave the two of them talking and walk into the kitchen. Dakota is surrounded by containers, working feverishly to tear the plastic wrap off one.
“Hey. Can I help?”
She jumps and drops the container onto the counter. “Biscuits and gravy, Kate! You’re like a ninja. Yeah, I can’t get the damn—darn thing open.”
I take it from her hands and find the seam. “You gave up on cursing? I thought that was your newest pastime—well, right up there with being the Punisher.”
She rolls her eyes and takes the unwrapped container from myhand. “It’s not good for the baby. How have you been? Are you still married?”
I nod. “Yep, still married. I left in kind of a rush the night I found out that you were pregnant. How are you feeling? Do you know how far along you are?”
Are you scared? Because I’m afraid for you.
She grabs another container and begins unwrapping it. “I’ll be nine weeks next Friday.”
We slip back into silence. I can honestly say there’s never been a time when we didn’t have something to say to each other.
Little Ricky comes in and breaks the silence. For what might be the first time, I’m thankful that he’s in our lives. I’ll never admit it to a soul, though.
“Caparina, toss me some napkins so I can set the table for this feast. The guys are talking some medical shit in there, and I got lost. Nate wants to know PT and OT and how much Thor can bench press.”
I laugh. “He wants to know how much he can bench press?”
Little Ricky shrugs. “Just about. He’s all,‘Which physical therapist did you get? Oh, that guy is awesome. Blah, blah. Bench press me, Thor.’It’s weird.”
I’d pay good money to see Zane bench press Nate.
Strangely, I’m turned on…
Dakota hands him the napkins, her mouth in a hard line. “You brought him? I said you were invited for dinner—not him?—”
“He’s my husband. Of course, I brought him.”
Little Ricky pauses with the napkins. “I like him. His tattoos are badass. I never would have pegged him as your type, though, Hail Mary. I always saw you with an attorney or some shit like that. Some guy that lived his life by the book, you know?”
An attorney?
Everyone must think I’m some rigid, unyielding shrew.
I open my mouth and manage to get out, “What the heck is that supposed—” as Dakota talks over me.
“He had me thrown out of the hospital while I was there trying to get paperwork from my new doctor. Did Doucheface tell you that?”
Little Ricky backs out of the kitchen, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Yeah, I forgot about that shit.” He turns to me. “Good luck!”
I rub my temples, trying to ward off the migraine that I know will hit at any moment. “He did what? Why?”
