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“You, too.”
Jace couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow.
Across townat Sweet Meadow Farm Road, the McCarthy family had gathered for dinner and a farewell of sorts, to Mac McCarthy’s fertility. He would leave on the morning boat to have a vasectomy on the mainland. He’d been lucky to score a Saturday appointment, so he didn’t have to miss work. Maddie had thought it would be funny to have a send-off party for him and his boys. While juggling twins, his diabolical wife had somehow managed to put together a basket full of not-so-funny items, such as Goldfish crackers labeled as “swimmers,” donuts relabeled “Nonuts” and a pair of the sharpest scissors he’d ever seen. Ha. Ha. Ha.
Mac didn’t find any of this funny. Not one bit. But as he and Maddie managed newborn twins, an eighteen-month-old, a four-year-old and a six-year-old, there was no question it had to be done.
“What if something goes wrong?” Mac asked as the others talked around him. “Has anyone considered that?”
His brother Grant, that bastard, laughed. Of course he thought it was funny. His boys were still needed for making babies. “They do vasectomies by the dozen every day. Stop thinking your package is special.”
Mac was offended on behalf of his package. “It’s very special to me.”
Maddie patted his hand. “And me.”
Mac glared at her. He wasn’t at all sure whose side she was on in this situation.
“What?” she asked, laughing. “It is special to me.”
“And yet, you’re sending it to be sliced and diced like it’s just another piece of worthless meat.”
“Oh my God, Mac,” his mother said. “Will you please stop being so dramatic?”
“That’ll be the day,” Evan said. “Mac has always been dramatic.”
“Shut up,” Mac said to his brother. “Wait until it’s your turn to get the snip.”
“I’m not getting it. Grace wouldn’t let a knife go near my vessel of love.”
The entire family groaned at that.
Grace held up a steak knife. “I’ll do it myself if I have to, but your vessel of love will be getting a snip as soon as I’m done with it.”
“The women in this family are ruthless,” Adam said.
“You better believe we are,” his wife, Abby, replied. “When you’re capable of doing this to me,” she said, gesturing at her huge belly, “you’ll be getting snipped very soon so there’s no chance of a repeat performance.”
Adam puffed out his chest. “I do hold the McCarthy record for most babies in one shot.”
Abby walloped him in the stomach, which deflated him.
“Ow.” He rubbed his wounded belly. “That wasn’t necessary.”
“Yes, it was. While you’re prancing around like a fool, all proud of yourself, I’m carrying four babies!”
“You have to admit that’s a singular spermatic accomplishment,” Adam said to groans from the entire family.
“That is so gross,” Grant’s wife, Stephanie, said.
“You’re all a bunch of windbags.” Linda glanced at her husband. “They get that from your people.”
“Kevin is a bit of a windbag,” Big Mac said of his younger brother. “I’ll agree with that.”
“So are you, dear,” Linda said. “And now we’ve created four monster windbags who can’t stop talking about their packages, their prowess, their baby-making abilities and their spermatic accomplishments.”
The entire table lost it laughing.
“It’s so much grosser when Mom says it,” Evan said, wiping tears from his eyes.
