They followed into the house and Ryder kicked off his shoes into the basket by the door. Zoe slipped her boots into the basket next to his and leaned into him.
From the kitchen, Finn called, “Get you a beer?”
She pouted, “Yes. Please.”
“I didn’t mean you,” he said, peeking out and firing head-tilting, teasing admonishment.
Ryder nodded. “That’d be great. Black Op? The new porter?”
“Of course. Your brother would hand me my ass on a platter if I bought from anywhere else. I don’t even remember what other beer tastes like anymore.” With the expertise of a seasoned bartender, as he was, Finn poured them each a glass and then handed Zoe a sparkling water.
Zoe planted at the kitchen table and chugged half the glass down, bubbles zinging in her throat and satisfying a craving still water alone couldn’t quite reach.
Finn leaned against the counter, Ryder against the opposite. Ryder air toasted and asked, “Where’s Emerson?”
“Hungry and easily distracted, so Haley’s topping him off upstairs. You guys come up with a name for the peanut yet?”
Swallowing hard, Zoe shook her head and answered, “Not yet.”
She felt Ryder’s gaze on her, watching her like a hawk. She tried to paste on a smile, but her cheeks were too heavy. Christmas carols were one thing, but a name… that was oddly pressuring.
Shifting away from the counter, Ryder moved across the kitchen and sat next to her, entwining his fingers with hers.
He winked at Finn. “Maybe we’ll keep it a secret until she graces us with her presence.”
Pops came around the corner and said, “I don’t know, I like Peanut.”
Evan came through the door, carting the tray of barbecued ribs. “I’m going with Evangeline.”
As she came down the stairs and into the kitchen, Haley laughed, patting Emerson’s back as the sleeping baby snuggled in. “Emerson was going to be Emilia if he had been a girl.”
Ryder squeezed Zoe’s hand. “I like that. We may have to steal it.”
Zoe nodded, “Maybe.”
Leaning close, Ryder whispered in her ear, “You okay?”
Nodding, she pasted on her cheeriest smile. A hole burrowed into her gut, and she couldn’t seem to remember how to smile. Surrounded by some of her favorite people, and somehow, she was buried in lead weights.
Scott seemed to sense her mood and cleared his throat. “Everybody, dish up while it’s hot.”
Her stomach rolled, thinking of eating right now. Even her favorite roasted sweet potato, walnut, and rosemary dish that she’d prepped yesterday smelled tempting, but her stomach raged, and she gagged at the idea of chewing.
Ryder squeezed her hand and asked, “I’ll dish us both up.”
Shaking her head, she answered, “Thanks.”
“Okay,” he said softly, studying her closely.
Zoe stayed quiet through dinner, grateful that Ryder had enough social skills to carry the conversation for her. With a new baby and another on the way, the conversation didn’t stray far from anything baby related.
Hand joined with hers under the table as soon as his ribs were gone, Ryder asked, “So, Scott, Zoe said the team went together on a baby sized jersey and a football stuffy?”
Zoe was so dang proud of them this year. Not their winningest year, but a lot of new kids, and they held a lot of promise for next year. Of course, they’d all lovingly teased her about her lack of tackling ability, with the baby bump.
Jumping on the topic, Scott loved bragging about the high school football team. “There was a caveat that Zoe is to bring the baby—wearing the jersey—to at least the first game next year.”
One of those amazing moments as a coach, seeing she meant something to the team. The topic alone should have eased her appetite, soothed her mood… something. Zoe managed to choke down half of a roll, but excused herself to the bathroom as soon as most of the dinner plates were cleared.
