When he stomps off, I grin at Camille, who shakes her head. “You tease him.”
“I’m his baby sister!” I laugh at her snort. “How’s Inessa?”
“She has news.”
“Sounds ominous, Cam?—”
“If I puke any more today, I will officially be quitting life.”
As a greeting, that wins.
Getting to my feet, I turn to my second eldest sister and draw her into a hug. When Camille does the same, I take the opportunity to hug her too, seeing as I couldn’t before.
Each time, it’s like coming home.
Though, admittedly, B gives the best hugs. I think it’s because they always seem begrudging. Like he’d rather be doing anything else. Yet that squeeze = perfect.
Humming happily now that I’m back in the family’s bosom—well, aside from Eoghan, who’s only God knows where and likely scoping out some mark’s roof—I ask, “Why are you puking?”
She grimaces. “I’m pregnant. Is that a dog?”
“You are?! And of course it is. What else would it be?”
“Yeah. I don’t know. A teddy bear.”
Before I offer congratulations, I ask, “Do you want to be pregnant?”
“Victoria!”
“She doesn’t sound too happy about it, Camille!”
“I puke more now than I do whenever I’ve had food poisoning.” Inessa pulls a face. “It’s horrific.”
“It’s the first trimester,” Camille soothes. “We went through all the books, didn’t we?”
Inessa pouts. “I know. I know. I regret stopping taking the pill now. What was I thinking? I’m in my last year of school! Why did Eoghan agree?”
Knowing Eoghan, he was trying to keep her at home.
Where she’s safe.
He’s obsessed.
More than Brennan and Maxim which… yeah. I have a rotation of twenty guards with the Irish and Russians. Soooo, make that make sense.
“Do you want some saltines?”
“No.”
“Ginger tea.”
Another pout. “No.”
“A nap?” I hint.
“That might be nice.”
Camille, like the born organizer she is, leaps into action. “I’ll get the guest room set up.”
