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Nice.

“What’re we having for dinner?” Aracelli burst into the room, all but diving onto the bed between her parents.

Whitney chuckled and moved a little bit more toward me, and I smiled.

“Bring me in there, please!” I heard called.

Nash, wanting to be where everyone else was at.

“No, pukey,” I heard Hoyt call. “Mom’s bed is an Alaskan King. They only have two sets of sheets for it. We take you in there, then we’re going to have to ration the sheets.”

“Then move in here!” Nash called out.

Smiling, I did as instructed.

Aracelli sighed and moved, too.

Kendall, proving he was still very fit for being the eldest in the family at sixty-two, lifted his wife up like she was a feather.

“Man, I wish I could do that with Nash,” I said as I walked behind them.

“It would be weird if you could, darling,” Whitney said over her shoulder.

We all piled into Nash’s room, and I smooshed in between Nash and Tyson.

Aracelli was on Nash’s other side, grumbling. “We could’ve totally stayed in Mom’s bed with a whole lot more room to spare.”

“Your brother is right, though,” Kendall said as he got comfortable on the large sofa, pulling his wife in close. “I don’t want to have to change those sheets. They are horrible to get on.”

Whitney patted Kendall’s thigh. “I know, I know.”

“Mom wanted the huge bed with the inset mattress,” Nash supplied, pressing his forehead against my chest. “The only problem is it takes Hoyt, me, and Tyson to get it out of the frame that’s holding it. It’s bad, like they said.”

“How are they going to get them changed now when you’re down for the count?” I teased.

“Guess they won’t have new sheets until I can again,” he answered, pressing a kiss to my arm.

I reached out and threaded my fingers into his hair.

It was still slightly wet, but so soft.

He groaned and leaned into me further.

“What are y’all going to name the baby?” Aracelli asked, looking at my belly.

Nash blew out a breath, and I couldn’t tell why.

“We haven’t discussed anything yet,” Nash said, his eyes heavy. “It’s something that we’ll talk about when I can actually pick my head up off the bed.”

“Talk about it now,” Cory cried. “Cory’s a great name. It can be used for a boy or a girl. Will y’all be finding out the gender?”

“Uh,” Nash hesitated, worried now.

I could tell that this was something he wanted to discuss with me before he could discuss it with his family, but only so we could be on the same page about what we were doing.

“Nash Junior,” I suggested. “For a girl, we’ll name her Whitney.”

There was utter silence in the room, and then Whitney sniffled. “That’s so sweet of you.”

Nash brought his hand up and caught mine to squeeze.

“You don’t want to name her Zip Junior?” Hoyt asked from his perch.

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I want my kid to have a normal name. One that’s not going to get them shit for the rest of their life. Been there, have the t-shirt. It is not fun.”

“It’s not that bad,” Whitney lied.

I snorted, then caught Nash’s hand and moved it so it was resting on my belly.

He all but froze.

Then he very slowly, as if he was worried about me freaking out, spread his fingers wide.

I melted just that much more.

He wanted to touch me.

It was obvious.

And he hadn’t because he wasn’t sure of my welcome.

Damn, I really needed to grow a pair and tell him that it was okay for him to do anything he wanted to me.

Taking a very uncomfortable leap, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth against his ear.

“I’m not mad at you anymore, Nash,” I whispered.

I physically felt the tension leave his body after that.

“Don’t worry,” Kendall said, unaware that I’d stopped being a coward. “Nash is the fiercest of my kids. He won’t let anyone make fun of you or his child.”

“Never,” Nash said as fiercely as one could when they were so exhausted and sick. “Never, ever.”

CHAPTER 24

What wine pairs well with an apocalypse? Asking for myself.

-Zip to Nash

NASH

Chemo round 2

“What?” Zip asked, sounding mad.

I grinned and looked away.

“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all. I just think you’re beautiful.”

She turned her gaze on me, and I had to fight to keep the smile from forming on my face.

But she was so damn cute when she was mad—as long as she wasn’t mad at me for being stupid, that is.

“Why are you buttering me up?” she asked, arms crossing over her chest.

“Because I want you to not be mad at me because I send you to drive back home and wait for me,” he said.

“I’m not driving home,” she snapped.

I pulled her into my chest, loving the way she felt there.

We were on round two of chemo treatments, and I was not looking forward to how badly this would suck for the next four days or so.

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