The Passing Storm(57)

“But you said—”

“The baby is mean when Mommy smells burgers. Me and Daddy like burgers.” Her face fell. “We can’t eat them anymore. The baby won’t let us.”

Baby? What baby? He wondered if his arrival had disturbed the child’s fantasy play.

Toys were strewn across the living room. A cornucopia of plastic animals and talking books. There wasn’t a doll in sight.

“He jumps on Mommy’s tummy. Like this.” Kameko hopped up and down to demonstrate. Then her expression grew earnest. “Griffin, do you make burgers?”

“Sure. Sometimes.”

“I’ll come over and eat one. Maybe tomorrow. Don’t tell the teeny baby.”

“Good plan,” he murmured, following her to the kitchen.

Did she mean her mother was pregnant? It would explain the teeny baby’s unpleasant behavior, not to mention Yuna’s distress. He’d lived next door long enough for Kipp to regale him with tales of Yuna’s morning sickness when she’d been pregnant with Kameko. Each story came with a colorful and amusingly gruesome title. “Life with the Hurl Master” or Griffin’s personal favorite, “Vicious Stops on the Vomit Train.” The stories were never told when Yuna was within earshot.

“Mommy, Daddy—look who’s here! I told Griffin about the mean baby!”

The atmosphere in the kitchen was testy. At the table, Yuna sat in a miserable silence. She was flicking saltines past the napkin holder like poker chips. Kipp, hovering nearby, looked ready to bolt.

Griffin appraised the subdued couple. “Are we celebrating or sitting shiva?” he asked.

“Hey, pal.” Kipp pulled a cold one from the fridge. “We’re celebrating. Yuna’s pregnant.”

“Congratulations to you both. A baby is happy news.” Accepting the beer, Griffin frowned. “Aren’t you joining me?”

“Naw.” Kipp patted his middle. “Yuna says my abs are starting to resemble blubber. If her hormones get much worse, I’m worried she’ll buy a harpoon. But enough with the small talk. I’m going to be a daddy—again!” He raised his bottled water. “To my sperm. May they always swim fast and free.”

Yuna gave him a jaundiced look. “Language—your daughter is in the room. As for ‘swimming free,’ if they do, you’re in trouble.”

“It’s just a toast!”

“Whatever.” She smiled weakly at Kameko. “Daddy’s goofy tonight. Mostly because he’s excited about the teeny baby. Don’t listen to him.”

“Okay, Mommy.” Kameko obediently stuck her fingers in her ears.

“I’m sitting shiva,” Yuna informed Griffin. To Kipp, she said, “I promised to marry you on one condition. We split all family chores fifty-fifty. I’m thrilled about the baby, but it’s your turn to gestate. I’m so done with morning sickness.”

“Whoa, sweetheart. Some duties are outside my jurisdiction—like the laws of nature.”

“Amend the law,” Yuna sulked. She regarded Kameko, fingers still dutifully stuck in her ears. Gently she removed them. “Sweetheart, can you go upstairs and brush your teeth? Daddy will be in soon to read you a story.”

“Can I have a snack first?”

“No. You had cookies after dinner. Go on.”

Her dimpled chin jutting out, Kameko glared at her mother’s tummy. “Mean baby,” she hissed. She stomped off.

Her tempestuous departure left a heavy silence. Griffin cleared his throat.

“Listen, I’m catching you at a bad time,” he said to no one in particular. “My issue pales in comparison to your happy news. Really great news—congratulations again. How ’bout I touch base this weekend? I’ll call.”

Female intuition was a strange phenomenon; Yuna knew he meant her.

“Sit.” With her toe, she nudged a chair out from the table. “You look upset.”

“I am, I suppose.”

“Your car hasn’t been in your driveway all week. Were you out of town?”

“No, just living at my office. Burying myself in work. It’s the manly way to deal with tough problems.” He pushed the beer away. “Or avoid them. Which is why I need a favor. I hate to ask.”

“It’s fine, Griffin. I’m always here for you.”

“I know you are. I appreciate your friendship.”

Turning to Kipp, she glared. “Why are you still here?” Evidently her sympathy didn’t extend to her husband.

Kipp drew himself up tall. “Because Griffin’s upset,” he volleyed back, “and I’ll gladly discuss anything not related to vomit or marital equality. I’ve sworn off red meat and have thrown out my favorite sriracha sauce. I’m dealing with your mood swings. What more do you want from me?” When she remained silent, he landed a palm on Griffin’s shoulder. “Spill—we’re here for you.”

Glad to get on with it, Griffin pulled out his phone and found the image. To Yuna, he said, “I need you to return this to Rae.” He slid the phone before her.

“What is it?”

“A keepsake Hester made when Rae was in elementary school. It was special to Rae when she was growing up. I have it.”