Sidebarred: A Legal Briefs Novella(10)

Riley’s the first to pop up from her chair and hug us. “Congratulations, guys, that’s awesome.”

“I really wanted another dog,” Regan says, gravely disappointed.

Rosaleen leans forward. “Did you guys go to the doctor’s to get pregnant? Like Jackie Barbacoa’s two moms?”

“No . . .”

She thinks on that. While Rory wants more clarification.

“Then how did this happen?”

Chelsea glances at me, then shrugs at the kids. “The old-fashioned way.”

Rory’s hand goes to his stomach. “I’m gonna puke.”

That’s when they all start talking at once—except for Raymond, who sits back silently. Dazed.

“What’s the old-fashioned way?” Regan asks.

“Wow,” Rosaleen comments.

“No, I’m seriously gonna puke.”

“What’s old-fashioned mean?”

Ronan stands on his chair. “I’m not gonna be the littlest anymore? I get to be the boss of someone?”

“That’s right,” I tell him.

He pumps his fist. “Yes!” Then he starts marching around the table chanting, “I’m gonna be a boss, I’m gonna be a boss . . .”

While Rory sprints to the umbrella stand in the corner—gagging.

“Huhhh, huhhh . . .”

“Somebody tell me the old-fashioned way!” Regan yells.

And Rosaleen gets fed up. “It’s when the man and woman fall in love and the man puts his penis in the woman’s vagina and nine months later a baby comes out of it.”

Regan looks at me like I’m a monster.

“You put your penis in Mommy’s vagina?”

Christ, this went downhill quick.

“Why would you do that?”

“. . . I’m gonna be a boss . . .”

“We’ll talk about that when you’re older.”

“Huhhh, huhhh . . .”

“And now a baby’s gonna crawl out of you?!”

“Not exactly.”

“You’re so immature, Regan.”

“Shut up, Rosaleen.”

“Huhh . . .”

Ronan puts the icing on the cake. “How big is your vagina, Mommy?”

And I try to be helpful.

“It’s not that big.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Chelsea’s head whips to me. And we both crack the f*ck up.

She covers her eyes with one hand, waving at the kids. “You’re crazy. You guys are all crazy.”

But they’re not even listening to her.

As the chaos continues to erupt, I put my arm around Chelsea’s shoulders and pull her against me, kissing her temple. “I think that went well.”





Chapter 5

December

By the first week in December, Chelsea’s sporting a small, firm baby bump. Her morning sickness has abated and she says she feels better than ever. Well enough to accept the extra work her boss has been sending her way at the museum—she’s been going in early and staying late whenever she can.

She’s also slightly obsessed over what she eats—determined to stay away from anything processed or non-organic, but with some coaxing, she gives in to her craving for Double Stuf Oreos dunked in a glass of whole milk.

Around the same time, I get a big case—that’s getting national media coverage. It’s a string of bank robberies, and despite my client’s alibi, the prosecutor has rock-solid DNA evidence on a ski mask that was worn during the crimes. It’s the kind of case I craved back in the day—a challenge. A gauntlet with the promise of legal glory at the finish line. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy digging into it, burying myself in motions and maneuvers to outsmart my opponent. It’s easy to do during the day, at the office, but when night creeps in and the sky turns black outside my window, the case feels more like a nuisance.

Because I just want to go home. Pet my dog, see my kids, and screw my wife.

One night, about a week before Christmas, I pack it in fairly early—about seven thirty. When I walk through the front door, Cousin It attacks my shoes, and the house smells of the fire burning in the den fireplace and warm gingerbread cookies. There’s loud laughs and shouting coming from the dining room, so I put my briefcase down and head in. The kids are all there around the table, and so are Stanton, Sofia, Presley, Samuel, Brent, and Kennedy.

There’s bowls of white icing, and colorful candies, white-and-red-striped peppermint sparkles, scattered all over the table. And about two dozen rectangular pieces of brown cookie.

“Honey, you’re home!” Brent greets me, then he sucks one of Kennedy’s icing-covered fingers into his mouth.

Regan, Ronan, and Rosaleen attack me at once, talking at the same time, showing me what they’re doing. I can only make out every other word. Then Chelsea walks in, wearing a red-and-green apron and carrying a tray of more brown cookie rectangles.

“Hey!” she says with excitement, putting the tray down and reaching up to peck my lips.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

She glances around the table. “I went overboard with the gingerbread. So instead of building a house, we’re building a town.”