Page 105 of Rock Bottom Girl
I thought about our arrangement. Ourtemporaryarrangement. And I thought about those wide, brown eyes looking up at me.
“Maybe a little more serious for me,” I admitted.
“Well, well,” she said smugly. “It’s about damn time. What do my dads think?”
“I’ve been putting off their family dinner invitations.”
She laughed. “Your mom’s birthday is next week. You have to bring her to the party, or they’ll riot.”
I sighed. “I know. I will. Unless she has a game.”
“Then we’ll reschedule,” she said helpfully.
I put her in a headlock and gave her glossy black hair a brotherly scruff. “Enough about me. What’s new in your life?”
“I’m pregnant with surprise baby number five, and Rob is getting a vasectomy tomorrow.”
I laughed loud and long. “Tell me this is the kid you’re finally naming after me.”
“Baby Jake O’Connell due next May,” she said, waving at her husband, a tall Irish-looking guy who was trash talking a neighbor in Baltimore Ravens gear. He blew her a kiss and raised his beer at me.
“Tell your dads yet?” I asked, raising my beer in response.
My uncles had the best good news reactions.
“Saving it for your mom’s birthday dinner.”
“She’ll love that.”
“Give your girl a heads up,” Addy said, nodding in Marley’s direction. “Does she even know what she’s getting into with the Weston clan?”
“Now, what’s the fun in warning anyone in advance? If memory serves, you didn’t even tell Rob you had two dads,” I mused.
She grinned. “Yeah. And he stuck, didn’t he?”
“Maybe a fifth kid will push him over the edge?” I teased.
“How about I go get my baby maker, and you introduce us to your very pretty lady friend?” she suggested.
“Fine. Just don’t get your fertility all over the two of us.”
45
Marley
Three months ago, if someone had suggested I’d be hanging out at a Culpepper bonfire enjoying myself, I would have called them a drunk and a dirty liar.
Yet here I was, slinging horseshoes at a barely visible stake plunked in the uneven pastureland.
Andrea, my new friend and part-time counselor, was looking cozy in a puffy jacket and headband that covered her ears. Mariah and Faith, my old friends, were bundled up against the fall chill reminiscing about back in the day.
Mercifully, no one had said a word about Homecoming. Yet.
“So you have how many kids?” I asked Faith.
“Three. They’re exhausting, and I feel like a failure every day,” she said chipperly.
“Preach, sister,” Mariah agreed. “I have two kids and work part-time, and I still can’t get a grocery list made or the Halloween costumes bought.”
