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Stonewall charges onto the deck, opening the door as little as possible and closing it firmly.
Dad now has his hands on our deck rail as he peers past Stonewall. The glass on our door isn’t too thick and I’m able to make out the conversation.
“What’s going on, Dad?” Stone skips past explanations of why all of us are in my room, putting the focus on Dad.
“Have you seen Cheri? Her mom’s looking for her and she’s not in her… Oh.” Dad catches on to the fact that we have a woman in the room. Hopefully that’s all he realizes. I can’t move or Cheri will be exposed, but Commando hops up, adjusts the sheet at the end of the bed, then proceeds to sit on the edge, further blocking Dad’s view of his new stepdaughter.
Stone asks, “What’s her mom need her for this early?”
“Her mom’s moving in with me and wants to sell their house. Of course, Cheri will be welcome under my roof as my daughter.” His voice falters.
“Of course,” Stonewall agrees. “Always take care of family.”
Dad cocks his head to the side, shifting his gaze into the room once again, then back at Stonewall. “Tell her to get in touch with her mom.” He walks away.
Stonewall re-enters and pulls the curtains closed. Cheri jumps up and grabs her phone. “Oh shit. Mom texted three times this morning. She knows I’m always awake early.”
I set my hand on her back and caress up and down.
“You’re on vacation. She doesn’t know anything.”
Stonewall says. “I don’t know. I think Dad saw her.”
Cheri frowns. “He didn’t say anything.”
Commando explains, “No. He would leave the burden on us, expect us to be honorable.”
“And you are. We had an agreement—what happens on the island…” Cheri pulls her shorts and top on.
Stone’s face is pale. “He doesn’t know that.”
Commando kicks a chair, shoving it across the tile floor with a horrific scraping sound. “He doesn’t need to know anything.”
I glance at Cheri’s exposed flat belly as she pulls her hair into a ponytail. That might not be possible.
Twelve
Cheri
Baking and decorating cakes isn’t nearly as fun when my tummy’s upset, which is happening a lot lately. I load the piping bag and methodically add a basketweave pattern to the next dessert.
My time on the island was unmatched, but there’s nothing like the comfort of your own home when you need to heave into the porcelain throne. I’m keeping it pristine these days since my stomach decides to upend itself every morning and evening. Thankfully, I’ve only had two incidents at work, but I’m keeping that bathroom pristine as well.
But what I’d thought at first was just the side effect of too many desserts, then airsickness on the flight home, has lastedtoo long. Giving delusion a chance, I hoped I’d gotten food poisoning or picked up a bug while traveling. Those things happen.
But with no other symptoms, like fever or diarrhea, which I would not usually look forward to, I’m forced to admit the only other symptom… tender nipples. Reality is edging out delusion.
This naughty little stepslut failed to follow the mantra: what happens on the island, stays on the island.
That’s now my least favorite saying.
A pregnancy test is waiting for me at home. I chose to put off taking it until after tonight’s roller derby bout.
I’ve kept my new brothers at bay, reminding them that we are completely platonic now, and even limited those interactions. I’ve swapped tables with another waitress to avoid interacting with them twice.
The other times they came to the diner, I was in the back, baking, and kept myself busy, not bothering to say hi. But today I’m carpooling with Beatrix to a roller derby bout and she’s early.
“Your brothers just came in.”
