They surround us, everyone talking at once. My mother, exclaiming, fretting. Amanda wide-eyed and almost gleeful, going on about more cousins, more cousins. Hanna, of course, full of questions.
“Wait,” Hanna says. “That’s your baby in there? How—?”
“Well, Hanna,” Easton says. “When a man and a woman love each other very much, they do a special kind of lying-down and the man—”
“Oh, because you have so much experience with love and the special kind of lying-down, Mr. Quantity-Over-Quality?” Hanna demands.
Before Easton can respond—and I know there’s a response coming, because I can see the mischief behind his eyes—I interrupt.
“It was last summer. In Vegas.”
“Ohhhhh,” says Amanda. “That’s why you were so weird and mopey after that trip.”
“He was weird and mopey?” Hanna asks. “I didn’t notice.”
“He was.” Amanda crosses her arms. “Totally.”
“I just—”
But there’s not much I can say. I want to deny it, but Amanda’s right. That single, brief encounter with Mari rocked my world, and for weeks afterwards, things felt colorless and bland, like my real life was just out of reach. I wanted a repeat, which was impossible. And even if it hadn’t been impossible, it was a terrible idea, because why would she want a repeat? What chance was there that a repeat would live up to the first time? And even if it did, why would I possibly think there was enough between us to sustain a relationship?
A relationship.
That’s right, folks. One night, just a little under an hour from start to finish, including the conversation, and I wanted more. Not just more sex, but more-more.
I’d gone in channeling Easton and come out—
Welp, boy next door all the way.
I just can’t slough off that part of myself.
And right now, I don’t want to. I want to embrace the hell out of it.
“Oh, man,” Amanda says. “I so should have known when you wanted to bake Boston cream pie. You never baked Boston cream pie for Veronica or Betsy or Lacey—”
“That’s enough of that,” I say, alarmed by the growing list of my uninspired choices, which Mari really doesn’t need to hear.
“Ha! Now you know how it feels to be me!” Easton crows.
“No,” Hanna says. “Because he’s a serial monogamist, and you’re a serial—what is even the word for that? Fucktologist?” She scowls at Easton. “Did you just look proud at that?”
“It sounds… skilled,” he says with a shrug. “Fucktologist,” he muses. “Better than panty melter.”
“You are such a…” She sputters to a halt before she can finish the sentence.
“I’m just so glad it’s you!” Amanda tells Mari, who looks increasingly wide-eyed and terrified. “I’ve liked you since the minute I met you. You’ll make such a completely awesome addition to our girls’ nights, and your baby won’t be much younger than Willow—we’re going to have such a—”
“Amanda!”
Four pairs of wide, shocked eyes find my face. They have never, not once, heard me snap.
On the other hand, I have also never gotten someone pregnant.
It’s a big year for personal growth, for better or for worse.
I cross my arms and rack my brains for a way to spin this that gives Mari some room to breathe.
“You’re not—together.”
It’s not a question.
It’s my mother’s voice, and her disappointed, I-just-want-the-best-for-my-kids Mom face.
I can’t stop myself, and look at Mari again, and oh, my God, she looks like she’s going to throw up. Or run. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go down. Not at all. I’m supposed to be giving her space, letting her figure this out. I’m supposed to convince her to fall in love with my family, not let them scare the shit out of her.
“No,” I say. “We’re not together. I didn’t even know she was pregnant until two weeks ago. She lives on the road, in her Airstream, and I live, you know, here, in Rush Creek.” I still have their full attention. “She hadn’t even decided if she was going to—”
But I stop, there. Because I don’t want my family to start weighing in on Mari’s—and my—options. It’s not their place and it’s not their business, no matter how much they love me and want the best for me. So I just say, “We’re still figuring all this out. We need space.”
And like I’ve spoken the magic words, they give us the space we need—literally. They start backing up.
First Easton, with his hands up, palms out. “Of course, dude. Of course.”
Then Hanna—surprisingly, falling back to Easton’s side, as if taking her cue from him. “I’m sorry, Kane. I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” I say, quickly. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t.”
Amanda’s next. “Kane,” she says. “I really stepped in it, huh?” She turns to Mari. “I’m so sorry. I just got so excited, because I really—I’m just sorry. We’re—I know we’re a lot. I hope—I hope you can forgive me for being such a big mouth.”
“You weren’t a big mouth,” Mari says. “You were just excited. No forgiveness needed.” Her voice is surprisingly steady, her chin up. The look of terror has muted somewhat. She’s a trouper, for sure. My admiration for her notches up, although it was topline to begin with. But—she hasn’t run, she hasn’t snapped—unlike me. She hasn’t curled up in a ball on the ground whimpering, so in my book, she’s a queen.
Amanda follows Easton and Hanna, disappearing around the side of the house.
My mom hangs back. I expect for her to lecture me, but she turns to Mari instead. “Whatever you… whatever you need, I’m here,” she tells her. “I’m so excited to be a grandmother again. I would love to have a chance to get to know your baby, but no matter—”
She pauses, her eyes soft on Mari.
Even though we haven’t said anything about what’s at stake, my mom seems to intuitively grasp how complicated this is. That’s my mom for you. Quietly the rock at the center of this family unit. I know it looks like that’s Gabe role… and of course he is, too. But underestimate my mom at your peril.
“—no matter what you decide, I’m here for you.”
For a long moment, Mari holds my mom’s gaze. The two women are almost perfectly still, but it feels like something travels between them. Something in a language I don’t know and possibly will never understand.
“Thank you,” Mari says, quietly.
My mom touches her on the arm, just a tap, before disappearing around the corner.
I exhale and look up to find Mari looking at the house my family members disappeared to. The panic is gone from her face, and she looks thoughtful.
I don’t know what just happened, but maybe this evening isn’t the total disaster it seemed like a few minutes ago.