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Winter finishes filling the fridge with the few groceries he picked up for me and says, “We’ve got something else to celebrate, too. Max has news.”
My eyes widen at Max. “Tell me!”
Max grins. “I’m going to propose to Georgia in a couple of weeks and since she and I have already talked marriage, I’m pretty sure she’ll say yes.”
“Oh my God, this is the best news!” I throw myself at him with another big hug. When I let him go, I say, “I’m so excited and happy for you.”
Winter reaches up into the cupboards for the whisky and two glasses while I ask Max a thousand questions about how he’s going to propose. Handing Max a glass, he says, “To the second part of your life, brother. I know Georgia is going to make it good.”
Max’s eyes meet Winter’s and they exchange a look. It’s the look I sometimes see them give each other. Because I only know their relationship from the outside, I don’t know exactly what it means, but I do know I like whenever they exchange it. Winter always seems happy at the time, and that’s all I want for him. Max, too.
They take their drinks out to the deck while I finish preparing dinner. Fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting around the table out there eating and catching up.
“So tell me, Birdie,” Max says, leaning back in his chair, “has Winter managed to fuck more shit up at your work since the last time we spoke?”
I laugh at his question while Winter shakes his head. Placing my hand on my husband’s thigh, I say, “Hell no. I haven’t let him back in to cause any more damage.”
A couple of weeks ago, I asked Winter to come in and erect some new walls to create more treatment rooms for me. He did that no worries, but on the way out, he tripped and ran into a display we had up, which resulted in a hole in the wall.
“And for the record,” Winter says, tracing his fingers over my hand, “the less I’m asked to do around the studio, the better, so I’m good with this.”
“Ah,” Max says with a grin, “this was your evil plan all along, wasn’t it? You intentionally put that hole in the wall so she wouldn’t ask for your help anymore.”
Winter extends his arm across the back of my seat. “It’s a wonder I’m still married after all the shit you bring up that gives her ammunition to bust my balls.”
I lean in close to him, loving how the tension he always carries has eased with Max’s presence. “Trust me, baby, you give me enough ammunition yourself.”
His eyes find mine as the corners of his mouth lift. “And yet you love me enough not to bust my balls 24/7,” he murmurs while searching my eyes.
Max has ceased to exist for me. The only person I’m aware of is my husband. I actually can’t recall the last time we were this easy with each other. I miss this. “I love you,” I say as I press my lips to his. It’s not a long kiss, but it’s a kiss we won’t forget in a long time. He feels it too; that much is clear in his eyes when I pull away.
“Okay,” Max says, breaking the moment, “before you two forget I’m here, I wanna discuss prams with you.”
“Prams?” Winter says, sounding as confused as I feel.
“Yeah, you know those contraptions you put babies in. Prams. I wanna buy you one as a gift and so I need to know what kind you’re considering.” He looks at me. “Especially you, B. You’re the one who’ll be using it the most.”
My heart constricts with love for Winter’s brother. It also gasps for air a little, because I’ve gone from having to deal with Winter’s need to go looking at baby furniture to Max now wanting me to think about prams. It’s a lot to wrap my head around when I can barely wrap it around believing I’ll make it through this pregnancy and deliver a healthy child.
Deep breaths.
In.
Out.
You’ve got this.
Winter’s fingers thread through mine and he squeezes my hand.
“We haven’t really thought about it, Max, but we will,” I say. “Can we get back to you on it?”
“We’re going looking at baby stuff this weekend,” Winter says, squeezing my hand again and keeping a tight hold on it. “We’ll check some out then.”
“Sounds good,” Max says, and I exhale my relief that he doesn’t push for more than that.
I look at Winter. “I wanna look at flooring on the weekend, too. I think we need to consider ripping up our carpet.”
He frowns. “Why?”
