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“You’re such a weirdo, Grayson!”
“That’s what you get for kicking me, Devilainey!”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Devilainey! Devilainey!”
Lainey lets loose what can only be described as a battle cry and kicks one of his shins, then the other.
“Dad! Tell Devilainey to stop kicking me!”
I sigh as James steps between the two to separate them and give them a talkin’ to, then asks them to apologize to each other. At six years old, they bicker almost as much as Bailey and Autumn do, and we constantly have to break them up. I snort when I think back to when I was young and naive and thought my house would be any quieter than the one I grew up in. At least they don’t have to share a room, like my sisters do, so they aren’t always in each others’ faces.
Once they’re settled—unhappy but no longer fighting—James and I both do a double-take when a woman cries out my name and falls into me with a hug. It’s awkward with my belly—and hers?—between us. I would have lost my balance if James hadn’t immediately sprung to my side to steady me as the nameless woman sobs and sags against me.
Over her shoulder, I see Grayson pull Lainey behind his back with a fierce look, protecting her from whoever is accosting me as he backs her away from us. Thankfully, Bailey and Autumn are hand in hand with their nephews, Gentry and Artie, or they would have scattered like Bailey’s pecans. Lastly, I see Martin’s eyes blow wide in recognition.
A black-haired man with glasses that swallow nearly half his warm brown face grimaces and slowly peels the woman away from me. “Ok, mi alma, let the woman go.” She reluctantly agrees and takes a step back into his chest while he rubs his hands up and down her arms.
“Mara?” James asks with astonishment as he slides his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. I search her face, looking for the familiar mean girl in her splotchy features.
She bursts into a fresh round of tears as she rubs her belly, obviously pregnant and looking like she’s ready to pop. Of all the people I would expect to hug me, she’d be one of the last people on my list.
Mara nods, and through tears, she says, “When I saw you…I just had to say…to say that I’m so sorry, Shayla, for how I treated you when we met.”
My brows shoot up to my hairline. “Oh, that’s, uh, nice of you. Thank you.”
“I was such a bitch to you, and you didn’t deserve it. I…I…I’m so fucking miserable!” The man holding her blanches and kisses her temple. It’s then I notice she’s wearing a wedding ring, and with how he’s holding her, I’m guessing this is her husband. “This shit is so hard,” she wails as she waves her hand up and down her body. “Everything’s swollen, and my hips ache all the time. I can hardly breathe or eat more than a few bites without being full. And my tits! They’re fucking huge and hurt like a bitch all the time!”
I suppress a chuckle because been there, done that. I see Eden laugh from the corner of my eye because she also knows exactly what that feels like.
If possible, Mara’s face falls more after that. “I’m sorry I made that ‘joke’ about you being nothing but a pretty face with big tits and that stupid insult about you throwing them around for men’s attention. Because they’re just like that, right? You can’t help it. You could be covered head to toe, and they’re still right there in your face.”
“Oh. Well, I, uh, I appreciate that,” I say, still stunned by this run-in and her apology.
“Everyone’s always judging me, offering unsolicited advice, no matter what I do or wear, and I realized I did that to you, too. And Jesus, how much bigger can they get? I already have stretch marks, and they just keep growing and growing…and they’re supposed to get even bigger when my milk comes in! When will it stop?!” She sniffles and then steps forward, reaching for and holding my hand between hers. “I’m so sorry. Truly. There’s no excuse for what I said to you. You were…you had to go through all of this when you were still in high school, and I can’t imagine how much harder that must have been. And then I walked in and shit all over you. I’m sorry.”
With more feeling, I tell her, “Thank you for apologizing. You didn’t have to…but thank you.” We share a smile, and I strike Mara’s name from my mental mean girl list.
After formal introductions with Mara’s husband, Ezra—who is just as nerdy as the rest of the old RPG group—we introduce our kids and Martin’s as well, much to Mara’s surprise as she counts all of them.
“You both have such beautiful families,” Mara says, and she smiles with warmth when I tilt my head, resting it against James’s shoulder. Tentatively, she asks, “So, are you still doing game nights?” When James nods, she says, “I…I know why you kicked me out of the group. I deserved it. Ezra and I started playing—that’s how we met—but it’s just the two of us. We haven’t found a group that we’ve clicked with yet.”
It didn’t sound like a leading statement, but I guess the guys take it as such. After Martin and James share a long, silent look, James tips his head toward me, and I give a slight nod. Just because Mara was a mean girl once, that doesn’t mean I have to be one to her now, especially since she’s apologized and seems to be sincere.
James says, “We’re hosting the next game at our house this weekend. Shayla’s dad plays with us now, too, but we have room for two more.”
Mara breaks into yet another round of tears, though they’re happy ones this time. Ezra and James shake hands while Mara pulls me in for a hug and thanks me for forgiving her and giving her another chance.
Looks like I just made a new friend.
* * *
It was sheer luck that James’s old house was on the market when we made plans to move back home after I graduated, so we were able to buy it back. Our kids will get to grow up with their grandparents right across the street, and I don’t have to wait for holidays to see my family. Some of my best memories were made in this house, and as much as I loved the modern, new build we lived in while we were in Lubbock, this house is what truly feels like home.
With Lainey in one room and the three boys in the former office, it’s a tight squeeze with our computer desks taking up one-half of our bedroom and the bassinet butted up to the side of our bed for when our littlest Bartlett is born. But with the second-story addition the city just approved for us to build, we’ll have three more bedrooms by this time next year—one for Grayson so he won’t have to share with Gentry and Artie like I had to do with Bailey and Autumn, a bigger one for Lainey, and the third will be made into our new office so James and I can work side by side from home without bumping elbows. Artie and Gentry will stay in their current room together, but at least they won’t have to share it with the baby, who will be in the old nursery once Lainey moves upstairs.
“Jesus, what a day,” James says as we trudge our way into our bedroom after getting the kids fed and dressed for bed.
