“Kids sound fuckin’ exhaustin’,” I mumbled.

  “They are.” She pulled the yarn up and rested it on her belly as she got comfortable on the couch.

  “What are ya makin’?”

  “A blanket for the baby.”

  “Your baby?”

  “Esther’s.”

  “Ah.”

  “I thought I’d have more time to finish it,” she said ruefully as her hands started dipping and twisting.

  “Who taught you to do that?”

  “My mom.” She smiled, watching her hands.

  “That’s cool.”

  “I know Esther has a lot of feelings,” she said quietly. “About all of them. So do I. But I have good memories, too. Probably because I was the baby so I got more attention.”

  “You miss your mom?” I asked, leaning back against the chair behind me.

  “I do,” she replied. “Me and my sister have talked about my mom a lot since I came back. I think—” she paused. “I think Esther sees my mom as weak. And don’t get me wrong, I see it. I understand. But, Esther got out. I know it wasn’t by choice, and the circumstances were horrible, but she got out pretty early.”

  “It was a fuckin’ nightmare.”

  “I remember,” she replied. “But looking past that—Esther never had a husband. She never had children, not while she was still in the church. There’s no way for her to ever understand my mom, or the choices she’s made, because Esther hasn’t ever had to live that life.”

  “But you have,” I said, understanding making my stomach clench.

  “Let’s just say,” she paused, her eyes staring into nothing. “I think I have a lot more compassion for my mom than Esther ever will. And that’s okay. It’s just how it is.”

  “You wanna tell me about it?” I asked cautiously.

  “There’s not much to tell,” she replied, smiling tightly. “I got married with special permission from a judge—”

  “No fuckin’ way.”

  “Yes, way,” she replied. “I’m not sure how they pulled it off, but they did. I was sixteen and scared as all heck. I had nowhere to go, because I knew that if I tried to leave Ephraim would just drag me back—which he could’ve—because I wasn’t legally an adult. Ironic, right? Less than a year after we got married, I had Ariel, two years after that, I had Diana, and two years after that my husband died and I called Esther to come get me.”

  “That was concisely done,” I replied cautiously. “But I think you’re leavin’ out quite a bit.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  What would I like to know? Everything. I wanted to know what her days had been like. What her husband had been like. If she’d thought of me. If she’d been depressed or scared or happy when she got pregnant. What it had been like having a baby when she was just a baby herself. If she’d known that it didn’t matter that she’d had Ariel, I still would’ve come to get her the moment she’d turned eighteen. Sooner, if she just would’ve fucking called.

  I didn’t say any of that.

  “Tell me about your husband.”

  “What about him?” Her words were calm, but her hands moved faster on the yarn.

  “What did he look like?”

  “He had light brown hair,” she said. “Blue eyes. Diana’s nose, but more masculine. Big like Otto… but not, you know, muscular. Just big.”

  “Was he good to you?” Even saying the words made my mouth taste fucking foul.

  “He was… not bad. Comparatively.”

  “Compared to what?”

  “Compared to the other husbands in the church. Compared to his brother. Compared to my brother.”

  “That’s not exactly a ringin’ endorsement,” I replied quietly.

  “He didn’t beat me,” she said, looking up to meet my eyes. “And when I found him dead, I didn’t—my first thought was I need to call Esther to come get me. Does that answer your question?”

  It didn’t… but it did. She hadn’t hated him, but she hadn’t loved him either.

  “He was old,” I murmured.

  “I think I’m done talking about it,” she replied tightly.

  “Alright.”

  The house was quiet as she worked on the baby blanket and I digested everything she’d said. Asking Noel about her life before, about her husband, was like poking at a wound. I couldn’t stop wondering and wanted to hear more, even though it hurt. I needed to know everything, but I was pretty sure I never would. Because even if Noel and I developed a relationship like we’d had before, there were some parts of her life that I was pretty sure she’d never discuss with anyone.

  I watched her as she worked, little wisps of hair falling out of her bun. She rested her wrists on her belly as her hands flew over the yarn and her lips were pressed tightly together, like I’d opened a can of worms that she wasn’t sure how to close again. I’d known a lot of women as they grew from teenagers to full grown adults—I had about a million girl cousins—and most of them changed quite a bit, but Noel hadn’t. Maybe my memory was playing tricks on me, but besides the fullness of her cheeks that I assumed was from her pregnancy, she looked the same to me. I’d imagined her in my mind a thousand times over the years, and always, she’d looked just like she did sitting on the couch with her legs curled up and her little round belly making itself known.

  I ignored the ache in my chest, remembering all the times I’d imagined her having my baby. Marrying me. Making a life by my side.

  It didn’t matter how many times I’d told myself that was over or how many times I’d told my family that she was in the past—none of it had been true. The day before, I would’ve clung to it, trying to convince myself that I didn’t even know her anymore. That we were completely different people now.

  After spending the day with her, I realized those things were true but they mattered a lot less than I’d thought. I wanted Noel just as much now as I’d wanted her then. I still loved her.

  I loved the way she fidgeted when she was upset, I loved the way she treated her girls and the way they clearly thought the sun rose and set for her alone. I loved the way she walked, her hips swaying from side to side with just the hint of a waddle as she leaned back to compensate for her belly. I loved the way she quietly and unobtrusively put me in my place when I was overstepping. The way she laughed. The way she treated my mom. I loved the way she’d fit in seamlessly with my family. Her loyalty to Esther and by extension, my brother.

  She was beautiful and sexy and I didn’t even think she realized it. She could still order me around with just a crook of her finger and she didn’t realize that either. It felt a little weird, thinking about a pregnant woman in those terms, knowing that if she’d let me, I’d bend her over the couch and take my time with her, but when I looked at her I didn’t see a pregnant woman. I saw Noel. Gorgeous Noel who’d given me her first everything and made my heart race and still made my dick hard like no one else I’d ever met. Suddenly, as if my thoughts had broken the floodgates, I was desperate to see her naked.

  I shifted uncomfortably.

  “What are you thinking about so hard?” she asked quietly.

  I was pretty sure my face was on fire. “Nothin’ much,” I muttered.

  “Do you think Esther has had the baby yet?”

  I was an idiot. While I was sitting there, coming to some huge revelation about how much I loved her and wanted to fuck her, she’d been worrying about her sister. I hadn’t even thought about Esther in the last few hours.

  “I think they’ll call when he’s here,” I replied. “Want me to text Otto?”

  “No, that’s okay. Don’t bother him.”

  “I’ll text him. Now, I’m curious about how shit’s going.”

  “Don’t you think it’s weird,” she said tentatively, glancing at me before looking back at her hands. “That he’s there?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked carefully, fearing I already knew the answer. My heart broke for her as she shifted a little on the couch, trying and failing to act like how I answered her didn’t matter one way or the other.

  “Isn’t it weird that he’s there with her while she’s having the baby?” She shrugged casually. “It just seems strange to me.”

  “No,” I murmured, my throat tight. Her husband had been a real piece of shit. I wished that he was still alive so I could kill him. “I think it’s good that he’s there.”

  “Really?” she asked dubiously.

  “Yeah. Really. If my wife was havin’ a baby, there’s nothin’ that could stop me from bein’ there.”

  “It gets pretty gross,” she said frankly, meeting my eyes in disbelief. “You’d change your mind.”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “Okay,” she said disbelievingly, looking back at the little square she was working on.

  “Noel,” I called, waiting for her to look at me before continuing. “Any man that doesn’t want to be with his woman when she’s havin’ their baby is a waste of fuckin’ space. Alright? If my woman was havin’ a baby, I’d be there every second—even the gross parts.”

  She nodded, but I didn’t think she believed me.

  It was then that it finally hit home that Noel and I might never have the relationship that I wanted. Her view of marriage had become so skewed from that dickhead she’d been saddled with and the way she was raised that she probably wouldn’t be ready for something new for years, if ever.

  And I couldn’t even blame her for it.

  Chapter 9

  Noel

  I woke with my heart racing and glanced over to where the girls were curled up together, Diana’s head in Ariel’s armpit. Thankfully, they were still completely passed out.

  Carefully sliding off the edge of the bed, I slid my feet into a pair of slippers and quietly left the room. Otto and Esther’s bathroom was a tiny haven as I leaned against the counter and stared at myself in the mirror.

  I’d had a sex dream about Titus.

  My face flamed red.

  I was a mother, for goodness’ sake. I was as round as a bowling ball. What the heck had caused me to have a—if I was being honest with myself, really hot—sex dream about my high school crush? When I’d been young, I used to have those kinds of dreams all the time. I hadn’t been able to escape them. Back then, I’d had a pretty vague understanding of all of it, though, so the dreams had really only consisted of some kissing and heavy petting. By the time that Titus and I had started going farther together, the dreams had tapered off, and afterward…well, I’d been so heartbroken and lost that it wasn’t surprising that I’d stopped having them.

  For a while after Titus and I had sex, I’d built the whole thing up in my mind, convincing myself that it had been life changing and wonderful. If that wasn’t a symptom of how immature I’d been, I wasn’t sure what was. I knew all too well what sex looked like now, which is why I was so flabbergasted that I’d had the dream in the first place. Sex with Caleb hadn’t been horrible. He’d been nice up to a point and made sure that he wasn’t hurting me or anything…but he’d had a lot more fun than I ever had. Sex was just another chore to get through, one last thing I’d had to mark off my to-do list before I went to sleep at night.

  Esther and Otto clearly had a healthy sexual relationship and I’d gone to public school until I got married, so it wasn’t as if I was under any illusions about sex. People loved it. They threw caution to the wind for it, like my sister had. Like I had.

  But once I’d gotten a little older, I’d realized that sex just wasn’t that vital for me. I could take it or leave it. I just figured that I just wasn’t someone who was overly sexual and I was fine with that.

  Apparently, I’d been mistaken, because as I stood in the bathroom, my skin still felt like it was overly sensitive and my nipples were pebbled against my pajama shirt. Lifting a hand, I brushed my palm across one of my breasts and hissed. Even mortification hadn’t cooled my body down.

  How the heck was I going to face Titus after the dream I’d had? It wasn’t as if I could stay in the bathroom all day. I couldn’t avoid him since he was currently sleeping on my sister’s couch.

  “Mama,” Ariel called, knocking on the door. “I gotta go potty.”

  “Give me one minute,” I called back, hurrying to do my business.

  When I opened the door she was squirming.

  “Sorry,” I said, getting out of her way as she raced inside.

  “Nana’s up,” she said as she scrambled onto the toilet. “Don’t worry, I closed the door.”

  “Great,” I muttered.

  Diana was inconsolable when I opened the bedroom door.

  “Ari,” she cried. “Close door!”

  “She just had to go potty,” I murmured, lifting her into my arms. “She didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I awake,” she shouted angrily.

  “I can see that.” I made an effort not to smile and rile her up more as I set her on the bed. “You ready to get dressed?”

  Otto had texted Titus late the night before, letting us know that their baby boy had arrived. All was well with both Esther and baby and they’d be headed home sometime late in the morning. I was anxious to see my sister and make sure she was doing well myself.

  A few minutes later, I had the girls and I dressed for the day and I was helping them down the stairs. Ariel handled them fine, but Diana still had to hold someone’s hand while she was navigating her way down.

  “You’re awake,” Flora called cheerfully, meeting us at the bottom of the stairs. She’d already dressed herself in a purple t-shirt dress and a pair of neon green leggings with little frogs all over them. “You were sleeping forever!”

  “I made breakfast,” Titus called from the kitchen.

  “Ari closed door,” Diana told Flora, her voice so full of betrayal that it was hard not to laugh.

  “Nana, you can’t go out without mommy,” Ariel said in exasperation, hurrying toward the smell of food.

  “Mornin’ sleepyheads,” Titus greeted, turning from the stove. “Good timin’. I just finished the eggs.”

  “I don’t like eggs,” Ariel replied.

  “Ariel,” I hissed, embarrassed.

  She froze.

  “You like scrambled eggs, though, right?” Titus asked.

  Ariel looked at me.

  “Yeah, she likes them scrambled,” I replied for her, pointing to the table. She hurried to what she’d claimed as her spot.

  I put Diana into the high chair and went over to my oldest. Leaning over I kissed the top of her head. “It’s rude to tell someone you don’t like the food that they made for you,” I told her quietly. “Especially when you haven’t even tasted it yet.”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied miserably.

  “Don’t tell me.” I straightened back up.

  “Sorry for being rude,” Ariel called out to Titus.

  “No worries,” Titus replied easily. “I remembered that you don’t like ’em fried.”

  “I like all kinds of eggs,” Flora announced from her seat.

  “You didn’t have to make us breakfast,” I murmured, joining Titus near the stove.

  The kettle was hot already.

  “I don’t mind,” he replied, handing me a mug. “Me and Flora were just hangin’ out anyway.”

  “Thank you.” I reached for the tea cupboard. “I can’t believe I slept so late.”

  “We were up pretty late waitin’ on news,” he reminded me. “Otto text a little while ago. They’ll be home in about an hour.”

  “Does Flora know?” I asked, glancing at my niece.

  “Not yet. Figured it would be better to surprise her than have her askin’ how much longer every five minutes.”

  “Good thinking,” I said with a huff of laughter.

  “I can’t wait to see the little guy,” he said quietly. “I wonder who he looks like.”

  “Like a baby,” I replied dryly. “Newborns don’t really look like anyone. Neither of my girls looked anything like they look now.”

  “Really?” He looked over at them.

  “Nope. And Ariel had such a conehead that I completely panicked.”

  “Oh shit.”

  I nodded. “It rounded out eventually, but those first few days were scary. I wouldn’t let anyone take her hat off.”

  Titus laughed. “Diana wasn’t a conehead?”

  “She was,” I conceded. “But it wasn’t as bad as Ariel’s… or maybe I just knew it wouldn’t stay that way so it didn’t bother me as much.”

  “I can’t remember any of my nieces or nephews having weird shaped heads,” he said as he put scrambled eggs on two plates and brought the pan back to the stove. “But, now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I don’t think I ever saw them as newborns without hats.”

  I watched as he put butter into the pan, swishing it around like he’d done it a million times before. Then he cracked a few eggs into the pan one handed. My mouth nearly dropped open.

  “Have I impressed you?” he joked, smiling.

  “You cook a lot?”

  “I don’t usually have any reason to make breakfast,” he admitted. “But when I was about twelve, my mom told me that girls would be really impressed if I could crack eggs one handed. I didn’t realize she’d known I’d spend so much time practicin’ that she wouldn’t have to make anything with eggs in it for months.”

  “She tricked you.” I grinned.

  “She did,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’m her fourth boy so she knew just which buttons to push.”

  “Smart.”

  “Sneaky,” he clarified with a chuckle. “But I can crack eggs one handed which is pretty cool.”

  “I have to use both hands,” I conceded, pulling my tea bag out so I could throw it away.

  “So, you were impressed,” he teased.

  I helped him carry the plates of bacon, toast, and eggs to the table. He’d made Flora and Ariel their own scrambled eggs and fried the rest.

  “Thank you for my mixed eggs,” Ariel said timidly. I felt badly for embarrassing her, but I also really hoped she wouldn’t do it again. There was never any way to keep little kids from saying whatever the heck popped into their heads, but I also didn’t want to raise kids that would hurt people’s feelings after they’d done something nice for them.