Demetrius leaves to get me more water. I watch him go like he's on a very important mission, and my whole chest goes soft and stupid watching him do it. Overly protective or not, there's no denying how lucky I am.
This is my life. This enormous, fussy, devoted man is my husband. It's still a little surreal, if I'm being completely honest.
My back has been aching since this morning. That's not unusual at six months and with two passengers, but when it twinges sharply and I shift in the chair and press a hand to my lower back, I make the mistake of wincing.
Demetrius, who is walking back with the fresh glass of water, stops dead in his tracks. His eyes go straight to my hand on my back.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. My back hurts. I'm pregnant with twins, Demetrius, my back has opinions about the double-trouble situation."
He reaches into his jacket pocket for his phone before I've even finished my sentence.
"I'm calling Dr. Vasquez. She said to call if there was any discomfort."
I protest loudly, mortified at pulling my doctor away from her own life on a Sunday afternoon, but he does not put the phone away.
"Demetrius Atticus Thornwood."
The voice comes from the kitchen doorway and the room immediately goes quiet. Agatha stands in the doorway with her cane and an expression that could strip paint. She is wearing a wine-colored dress and her white hair is pinned between her horns in an elaborate chignon. She looks exactly like what she is, which is a woman who has a very low tolerance for nonsense.
She points at Demetrius with one finger.
"Put that phone away."
Demetrius opens his mouth, then thinks better of it and puts the phone away with a petulant expression that would be at home on a kindergartener's face.
"Madison is a trained nurse and a grown woman in full command of her own body. She has a backache. She does not need a physician. She needs you to sit down and leave her in peace."
A beat passes. I know for a fact that not many people on this Earth talk to Demetrius Thornwood like this.
"Yes, Grandma."
Jazz, to her credit, turns her face toward the window before she covers her mouth with her hands and laughs. Dad doesn't bother, he just watches the scene over his reading glasses with the expression of a man who is genuinely enjoying himself.
Mom appears behind Agatha in the doorway and surveys the room with a frown.
"Dinner in twenty minutes," she says. "Who wants more sparkling apple cider?"
Demetrius sits across from me, in the chair Jazz has now vacated in favor of going to help Mom, and puts his hands on his knees and looks at me with the expression he gets when he's trying to be calm and finding it a challenge.
"I'm all right," I tell him, quietly. "We're all right."
Something moves through his face. The tension doesn't leave entirely, because this is Demetrius, but it loosens by a few degrees.
"I know," he says. "You're amazing."
After dinner, we move to the drawing room for the part of the evening that has been the official reason for the gathering, although we don't really need an excuse to have those and have them almost every week.
There is a box on the coffee table set in the middle of the room. It is large and white and tied with a pink and blue ribbon.
I stand with Demetrius behind the table and reach for his hand as Mom whips out her phone and starts recording. I take the time to look at each person assembled in the room. These are my people, my family.
And they are all gathered to celebrate the new life that Demetrius and I are bringing into this world. Well, the new lives.
And right now, we're about to find out their gender.
Jazz takes charge of the box because Jazz takes charge of everything, and nobody in this room has ever successfullyargued with her about it. She lifts the lid and steps back with her arms folded.
