Chloe and Amywere in their pajamas by the time I got home. They faced each other from opposite ends of the couch, their backs against the armrests and their fuzzy-socked feet meetingin the middle. Chloe had a stack of notecards in her hands and read out loud from the top card.
“Okay, true or false? A decrease in the unemployment rate will shift an economy’s production possibilities curve outward.” Chloe looked up at Amy expectantly.
I blinked. That sounded like a lot of gobbledygook to me.
Amy’s forehead puckered. “Hm. False? Not directly, anyway.”
“Why?” Chloe prodded.
“Economic growth or technology improvements can shift the curve. Decreased unemploymentmightlead to the kind of economic growth that can shift the curve, but it might not.”
Chloe nodded. “Excellent.” She slid the card to the bottom of the stack. “Okay, next—oh, hey, Steven,” she interrupted herself, catching sight of me. “You’re home.” A faint flush bloomed on her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be back. We had pizza for dinner. Leftovers are in the fridge.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Her eyes darted around, not quite meeting mine. I wondered if she suspected where I’d gone and why, and that I hadn’t planned on coming home tonight, and figured she probably did. Why did that make me feel like shit? We weren’t together. There was no reason for me to live like a monk just because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I shoved my hands in the front pockets of my jeans. “What are you two doing?”
“Studying,” Amy piped up. “It turns out that Chloe also had Econ 101 with Professor Garcia when she was a freshman. We made some flashcards from my notes and now she’s quizzing me.”
I glanced at Chloe, who was smiling at my sister like doing Econ flashcards was her idea of a fun Friday night. And that…Hell. I didn’t know what that was.
Maybe Chloe didn’t know what it meant to Amy to have someone pay attention to her like this, but I knew. Our mom loved us, I was sure of that, but our father was a jealous man, even when it came to his own kids. Time spent with us was time stolen from him. Every spare moment she had was spent on pacifying him and ensuring that the house was exactly how he wanted it so that nothing would set him off once the beers hit.
Chloe didn’t know any of that. She took care of people. That was simply who she was. It didn’t surprise me that she had found a way to take care of Amy. But somehow, it felt like she was taking care of me, too. And damn, it felt good.
Feeling my eyes on her, Chloe’s gaze bounced to me and then away again with a little shrug. “Professor Garcia loves to give really tricky true-or-false questions, the kind that seem like the answer is a little bit of both. The only way to get through his exams is to know the material front, back, and sideways.” Her fingers fidgeted with the cards.
“I could make popcorn,” I offered. “If you’re going to keep going for a while.”
“Yes!” Amy pumped a fist, and I laughed. Popcorn was one of her favorite snacks.
I headed for the kitchen. Behind me, I heard Chloe say, “Okay, true or false…” I glanced back over my shoulder at them and my chest tightened. Maybe this was what family should feel like.
Well, fuck.
Cold showers it was.
23
CHLOE
Pregnancy Week 13:Radish is the size of a peach
No one warnsyou that in the second trimester, all that first-trimester nausea? It gets replaced by straight-up horniness.
What a terrible time to be in forced proximity with walking, talking cowboy porn that I was only allowed to look at and not touch. Every room in this damn house, there he was. Leaning in doorways. Rolling up his sleeves to his elbows to expose his forearms. Making me snacks at all hours of the night. I couldn’t escape him. My vibrator hated to see me coming at this point. If it survived this pregnancy, it would be a miracle.
And what the heck was going on with my breasts? I knew they would get bigger, but it was like they had taken on a life of their own. I was soawareof them. They felt so full, and my nipples were constantly tingling. It took my thoughts from merely horny to downright depraved.
Which was why I was staring out the kitchen window, ogling Steven while he made repairs to the pig pen. He had tossed his coat aside in the bright Colorado sunshine and worked in a dark gray henley and plaid puffer vest, shirt sleeves pushed back tohis elbows, baseball cap backwards, two nails clamped between his lips. He hammered a third nail into a fence rail and my god. Mygod. All I could think wasplease come inside and pound me.
Amy reached around me to shut off the faucet that I had turned on to wash the dishes that now lay forgotten in the sink. Her nose wrinkled as she looked out the window. “Gross.”
“What?” I asked innocently. Steven disappeared from view and I couldn’t check my sigh.
“I can’t watch this. I’ll have nightmares,” Amy muttered and bolted from the kitchen right as Steven walked in.
