Thick Love (Thin Love, #2)(16)
“I got it. Here,” I said, handing Koa the dinosaur that was digging into my back between the cushions. Again he pulled on his ear and I felt useless watching him wobble out of the room and into the small play area that had taken over the dining room.
My mother finally appeared, looking miserable and swollen, and more tired than my father even though he was the one who he seemed ready to nod off next to me on the sofa.
Still, she was beautiful. There were shadows under her bright blue eyes and her chestnut hair was longer, fell past her waist in a thick braid and thin wisps of hair stood out around her face. But her cheekbones were still high and arched, her fine, thin bones giving her the look of a Lady and not the bad ass musician she’d become.
“Mom?” I met her in the middle of the room, attempted to grab the plates in her hands. “You actually cooked something for lunch?” The look she gave me was cool and annoyed, but I ignored it, fully aware that you should never, ever say anything stupid to pregnant women, like “hello” or “how are you?” Especially if it’s anything to do with their weight, their looks in general or them being incapable of doing anything at all. In fact, it’s a general rule of thumb, so I’d discovered, not to say anything but “you look so beautiful” or “you can’t even tell you’re pregnant” to them.
“I mean, should you be doing all that?”
But, I didn’t always follow my own advice.
“I’m not helpless, Ransom. I’m pregnant.” She refused to relinquish that tight hold on the plates and moved around me, using her protruding stomach to push me to the side.
“Very pregnant.” I mumbled, stepping out of her way.
“What does that mean?” My mother had the ears of a wolf and could level even the biggest bully with one glare. I was on the receiving end of that glare and despite how annoyed she was with me—I had no clue what sin I’d committed now—I gave her a big smile. It matched the one beaming on the sofa, the one attached to my smug, tired father as he watched Koa playing.
Mom looked between us, then gave us both that scary scowl. “I called three times this morning and you didn’t answer.” Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the plates. “And don’t you start fussing at me about cooking for my family. Even the ones who don’t answer the phone. I’m not going to sit around here waiting for this baby to pop out.”
The arched eyebrow, the narrowed left eye…damn. I hadn’t even heard my phone this morning. “Mom…”
“Wildcat, he’s just worried.” Kona said, coming from the sofa. He, at least managed to get the plates from her with an easy kiss on the top of her head.
“Your feet are still swollen. Shouldn’t you keep them up?”
Her glare, this time at least, didn’t send me running, but I did manage to avoid it as she went back into the kitchen. My father watched her walk away, then dusted the residual flour from the hem of his shirt as he set the plates on the table. He must have caught the look I gave him because he answered my unspoken accusation with a frown. “She kicked me out of the kitchen.”
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic how my father, big two hundred-forty-five pound former linebacker that he was, could be cowered by my mother’s grumpy attitude.
“And you went running?”
“You’re her kid. I know you’ve been on the receiving end of her fury once or twice.” Kona blinked and I didn’t particularly appreciate the way my father rolled his eyes at me. “Not lately, huh? She actually still likes you.”
He didn’t like my laugh, or the way I flopped on to the sofa, dismissing him. “Well, I’m not the one that keeps knocking her up.”
“I am right here, you know.” Mom looked a little funny standing near the kitchen entrance, hands on her slim hips and that huge belly giggling as she fussed.
“I know, baby.” Dad was shooting for smooth. “How could I miss you?” He failed completely and hurried to explain himself as that insulted gasp left my mom’s throat. Still, Kona and Keira—
Fairytale Love. That’s what the media said about them and I guess that was for a good reason. Those two were a little disgusting, the way they carried on, kissing, holding hands, whispering bullshit I didn’t want to know in each other’s ears.
Dad might be pushing forty, but he still had game. Mom’s insulted frown disappeared when he moved in front of her, holding her close to him with his big hand over her stomach. “I just mean…you’re so beautiful, ko`u aloha.”
Jesus. Here he goes. Hawaiian sweet talk. I would have said something, maybe ribbed my father and the whipped way he nuzzled and kissed Mom, but I didn’t have to. Koa watched them from the end of sofa, his small nose wrinkling as Dad moved his mouth to Mom’s neck.
I feel you, little man, I thought, watching my brother.
“Seriously? There’s a toddler watching you.” Koa came to me when I waved him over and settled him onto my lap. “Show me your truck.” A little less ridiculous, my parents went to the love seat, falling into the cushions as though they’d just finished a marathon. “You said you called me?” I let Koa off my lap as a small burst of energy had him disappearing back to his toys.
“Yeah,” Mom said, closing her eyes when Dad moved her bare feet onto his lap and started rubbing them. “I needed you to run to the store for me this morning before you came to lunch. Koa’s prescription is out, I was sick and your dad had a conference call.”