The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob(89)

Zoe crowds closer to Ingrid, but Piper squints at Beck. “I’ve seen you in your underwear.”

Beck nods. “The whole world has. Sorry. It’s how I afford all the good games. Wait. I know. Foosball. Soccer, right?”

“Hockey.”

He groans melodramatically. “Dang it, I always get those confused. You guys hungry?”

“Hey, Ingrid.” Sarah gently pushes Beck out of the way and leans in to hug my girlfriend.

Yeah.

Girlfriend.

I like that.

“Don’t mind Beck. He’s basically a puppy dog in man form. Completely harmless. Also, we set the alarm on the patio doors and locked the bedroom. Everything’s safe here.”

Ingrid goes white.

“Sarah has beehives on the patio,” I murmur to her. “She doesn’t think Hudson would jump. Trust me. James and Emma have been here enough that it’s completely Hudson-proof.”

“I might definitely need something strong if you keep tempting fate by saying things like that out loud,” she murmurs back. “Should I apologize in advance for anything they break or ruin by spilling food all over?”

“The first time I met Emma, Beck shoved her at me and she exploded out of her diaper all over the entire kitchen,” Sarah tells Ingrid. “He deserves anything he gets.”

“It’s true,” Beck agrees around a mouthful of food. “You guys allergic to anything?”

Ingrid shakes her head.

Beck squats to Hudson’s level. “Bet I can eat four chicken wings before you can.”

“Is he eating more than normal?” I ask Sarah as Beck and Hudson race for the food.

She goes beet red and stammers out a short no.

“Holy shit,” I whisper.

“Shove it, Wilson. My parents are here, and I will tank your movie premiere if you start spreading rumors.”

I pretend to zip my lips and throw away the key.

Ingrid stares at me like I’ve turned into an alien.

And I can’t stop grinning.

Beck Ryder is the only person I know who’d find out his wife was pregnant and then have to eat more himself. And Sarah’s murderous glare suggests tonight isn’t the night we’re speculating about that.

“Am I missing an inside joke?” Ingrid asks me quietly.

“You’re gonna miss about a thousand tonight, but I’ll fill you in as much as I can. This one has to wait until tomorrow though, or I might not live through the night.”

“Unka Wevi!” A blond-curled demon child streaks through the kitchen, and I catch her and toss her in the air, which is harder than it used to be. She’s getting big.

“Hey, Emma-banana.”

She squeals, my back reminds me she’s not two and I’m not in my twenties anymore, and I settle her on my hip. “You want to make a new friend?”

She sticks her finger up her nose. “No.”

Ingrid snorts with laughter and looks down, pretending she’s not laughing as Tripp joins us. “Emma. Be nice.”

She scowls at him.

His eyeballs both twitch.

Ingrid claps both hands over her mouth. “Sorry,” she says to my brother through her hands. “Just glad it’s not mine for the moment.”

“I hear it’ll be your turn soon enough.”

“It will.” She’s smiling as she holds out a hand. “Hi. I’m Ingrid. And I’m only pretending I’m not freaking out a little on the inside.”

Tripp smiles back as he shakes her hand. “Don’t freak out. We’re all more nervous to meet you than you are to meet us. Best behavior is hard, and Levi’s unbearable when he’s sad that we’ve chased another one away.”

“Hey. Standing right here.”

My backstabbing brother grins at me. “That sounds like something my wife said to you not all that long ago…”

And yeah, I grin right back.

I love being home.

We finally make it past the kitchen. Wyatt’s oldest is just a little older than Zoe, and he talks her into playing ping-pong in Beck’s game room. Piper follows and settles in at the pinball machine. My mom and Beck’s mom insist on playing ten million questions for Hudson in the living room, where there are a thousand and one Matchbox cars already scattered around, which leaves Ingrid standing next to me looking slightly lost.

But only momentarily until Ellie, Sarah, Mackenzie, and Lila pounce.

And by pounce, I mean shove a glittery wine tumbler into her hand, ask where she gets the hot chocolate mix for the coffee bar at Penny for Your Thoughts, and close ranks around her, leaving me out of the circle.

“You’re welcome,” Davis says next to me.

We clink bottles—mine root beer, as promised, his something stronger. “Thank you.”

“Still owe me a pan of orange marmalade rolls.”

“I’ll text you when they’re done.”

The women all suddenly burst into laughter.

All except Ingrid, who’s still talking, her eyes bright, her smile wide, occasionally signing something with her free hand.

I lean back against the wall and just watch the magic happen.

“She has no idea what she’s getting into, does she?” Davis says.

“She knows.”