"She's not wrong," Gage said, to no one in particular.
Peggy turned around from the stove. "Don't give her a hard time. I've been telling you for years that place needs more life in it." She turned back to the stove. "And a woman's touch."
"His kitchen is actually really nice," I said.
"He learned from me," Peggy said, satisfied.
“Oh,” I added, looking her in the eye. “Andyou’re getting another grandbaby.”
Peggy's spatula hit the floor.
Nobody moved for a second.
Then she spun around and looked at me—really looked, eyes wide, the composed morning-kitchen version of her completely gone.
"Haven Sinclair?—"
She looked at Wyatt.
He looked back at her, and whatever was on his face made her press both hands over her heart.
"Oh, baby," she said. Not to me. To him.
She wasn’t talking about our baby…she was talking abouthers, her baby even at forty years, and that made my chest warm.
Wyatt looked at the table. His jaw worked.
"Mom," he said.
"I know, I know." She picked up her spatula. Pointed it at him. "You're going to let me have this."
He didn't argue.
Millie was vibrating beside Gage. I could feel it from across the table—the specific frequency of a woman trying very hard to hold something in.
"Millie," Gage said preemptively.
"I'm fine," she said.
"Millie."
"I said I'm—" She looked at me. Her eyes were completely wild. "We're pregnant too," she said in a rush. "Eight weeks, weweren't going to say anything yet but I cannot—Haven, we are going to be pregnant at thesame time?—"
Gage closed his eyes.
"—and Bea is going to have a cousin basically her age and—" She grabbed my arm across the table. "Haven."
"I know," I said.
"This is the best day," she said. "This is genuinely the best day."
Bea, sensing the energy, shrieked and grabbed my hair with both fists.
Dakota laughed. Real and surprised and happy.
Forrest looked at the table and smiled.
Peggy had turned back to the stove and her shoulders were shaking slightly, which I was choosing to interpret as happy.
