He nods. "Yep."
"Is that…safe? For her, I mean."
"Pregnancy at her age comes with a ton of complications, which she'll need to manage with close monitoring and by making some lifestyle changes."
I pick up on something in his tone. "What is it?"
Court sighs and drains the rest of his drink. "Her morning sickness is bad, her refrigerator is filled with shit, and she didn't seem too enthusiastic about my offer of help."
"Oh, Court." I walk over and wrap him up in my arms. He sags against me as I hold him close.
"How can they do this again?" he asks, pulling back, his green eyes glassy. "They're adults for Christ’s sake. They're ourparents. They should know better. How did they not learn from their mistake the first time around?"
Dad's new wife and kids pop into my head. "Fuck. Liz. The kids." I know we're not as close as Dad would like us to be, but this is going to devastate them.
"Your dad and my mom could have been together after the affair became public, but for reasons neither one of them has shared with us, they chose not to. So why sleep together again after all these years? It makes no sense. They're only going to hurt even more innocent people."
"I have no idea what is going on in their heads. Did she say if she's told Dad yet?"
Court shakes his head. "I didn't ask. I'm assuming she hasn't since you don't know anything about it."
"Or maybe she has told him, and he's keeping it to himself?"
"Or maybe she has no intention of saying anything?"
"Not knowing anything sucks," I say, slumping against the counter.
"It does," Court agrees.
He looks about as bad as I feel.
I grab the bottle of Moxie and make him another drink. He needs it. As I pour a generous splash of rum into it, I say, "I know I promised you a blow job, but given how we're both feeling, maybe I should order some food, and we can watch TV or something?"
He takes the drink from me, our fingers brushing, and even in my shell-shocked state, the touch sends a warm current zinging up my arm.
"No, no, no. First, I find out my forty-eight-year-old mother is pregnant by your father, and now, my husband withholds sex. Are you trying to kill me?"
I chuckle. "Surely you can't be in the mood."
He takes a sip, keeping his eyes trained on me the whole time. "I think you're underestimating how sweet that throat of yours is."
And suddenly, there is no unexpected pregnancy, just a surge of warmth igniting my core and me pushing my best friend-slash-husband toward my bedroom where I'm going to treat him to another round with my sweet throat.
41
Courtland
The inn is buzzing with life, every room is booked, and the restaurant hasn't had an empty table in days.
Lola and her team are flat out in the kitchen, I'm checking in our latest arrivals, and Manuel is growing increasingly frustrated as only half the string lights he's been hanging over the mantle for the last twenty minutes are blinking.
"You're here for the ink festival?" I ask the lesbian couple I'm checking in at the front counter.
Rosie grins. Ink peeks out from her collar, and the tops of her hands are covered in an intricate, colorful design. "What gave it away?"
I wink. "What can I say? I'm psychic."
"Are there any gay bars in town?" her wife, Tara, asks.
