“I would pay to see Sandra Jubillee mortified.” I shake my head. “I need to get going, hun. I have prenatal yoga soon.” There’s silence from the other side of the line, and I pick my phone up from the counter to make sure the call hadn’t accidentally disconnected. “Tris?”
“People actually do that?” she asks with what sounds like confusion. “Like, outside of movies?”
I roll my eyes with affection. “Goodbye, Trista.”
“Can’t wait to see you, Lore!” she finishes with a smack of her lips, and I send her a kiss back.
I lean on the counter with a smile.
“Did you hear that, little one?” I pat my belly. “You’ve got a whole clan waiting for you out here and a very confused mommy and daddy who are just as lucky as you to have them.” My gaze turns to my phone, and I feel the anticipation of something good coming my way.
A new start.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Michael
The nervous jitterin my body won’t subside, worsening with every second that ticks by.
“Hey.” My mom places a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to find two sets of vibrant blue eyes full of worry. Trista got our mom's eyes, but that’s where the resemblance ends. Everything else about her is one hundred percent our dad, while Davey and I are a good mix aside from our hair. Leila Edwards has the same shade of coppery-red as us, long and wavy and a sure testament of her fiery nature.
“I’m okay.” I cover her hand with mine.
“Are you sure?” she insists, squeezing my shoulder. “You kind of look like you’re about to throw up.”
“No.” I laugh, but it quickly dies off. “It’s just…” I sigh, rubbing my palm over my hair. “What if Lauren hates it here?”
“Then you guys will move, just like Phoebe’s moving to Glassmont Grove to be with Andy.” Trista comes to stand on my other side. “And you know you’ll go wherever she does, right?”
“Yeah, because of the baby,” I agree, and Tristapfftsand rolls her eyes. “What?”
“Nothing. What’s really bothering you?” She crosses her arms, signaling she isn’t backing off.
“What if Lauren hates being herewith me?” I ask, almost inaudible, but they hear it and flank me in a hug. I wrap my arms around two of the most important women in my life just as the third emerges from the arrival hall, blue sneakers and dark gray yoga pants covered to her ass in a fluffy red sweater, looking confused and lost until her eyes land on me, and a bright smile lights her face when our gazes lock.
“You belong by my side. Don’t you ever doubt that.”
My own words echo through my head, and they ring truer than ever. Trista’s right. Wherever Lauren goes, I go, and not just because of my child. Because I belong by her side as much as she belongs by mine, and I can never doubt it, or Lauren might start to as well.
She stops about three feet away from us, fingers swiping through her fringes before she wrings her hands and looks down. With a mock sigh, I lift my mom and sister, who squeak in alarm, and I close the gap to Lauren with one long stride, pulling her against my chest and wrapping all three in an impromptu group hug.
“Michael,” Lauren scolds me, her face buried in my chest as Trista squeezes her from the right, and I shrug.
“Hi, Lauren. I’m Leila.” My mom smiles from under my left arm, patting Lauren on the shoulder. “You’ll have to forgive my son. He has unhealthy coping mechanisms. I take full responsibility.”
Lauren laughs softly against my chest, then rests her cheek on it so she can look at my mom. “He’s okay, for the most part.” Then she looks up at me with that trouble boding stare and a sassy grin. “At the very least, he wears a pair of skinny jeans well.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I release the laughing girls from my squeeze but keep my eyes locked onto Lauren, silently telling her she’s going to pay for that one.
“Forty bucks?” she teases as she pushes off my chest, and I laugh, pulling her back in and giving her a proper hug. The kind of embrace that allows me to pull her close and inhale her soft jasmine blossom scent that calms the unsettled parts of me. “I’m not beyond smacking you if you kiss me as retribution,” Lauren whispers against my neck, and I chuckle even as I shake my head.
“No kissing. Just cuddles, Rockstar,” I promise, taking one last deep breath before letting her go to Trista. I pick up Lauren’s bags, and when I turn around, Mom and Trista are both looking at me with interest. “What?”
“Nothing.” Trista shrugs, linking her arm with Lauren’s and starting to pull her toward the parking structure.
“Seriously.” I turn to my mom, who’s still glaring at me with amusement. “What?”
“You sure you can uphold the no kissing?” She raises an eyebrow and starts walking with me after the girls. “Doesn’t seem like it from where I’m standing.”