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The group of us laughs.
When the twenty minutes are up, Everleigh collects everyone’s cards and begins flipping through them.
“Alright, I think we have a winner,” Everleigh announces with a shit-eating smirk.
“My advice for the mom-to-be is ‘no matter what he says, anal is not permitted after giving birth.’”
“Oh my God, I think I peed myself.” Gemma laughs. “Who said that?”
“There’s no name on the card,” Everleigh says, flipping it over. “Alright, you dirty birds, who wrote this one? You can’t get your prize if you don’t come forward…” She rocks the basket back and forth, trying to entice them.
Finally, someone raises their hand. “Mrs. Florence!” Everleigh announces with a gasp.
Everyone’s heads turn, and I snicker at the way she’s blushing.The librarian.
“It’s always the quiet ones, y’all…” Everleigh giggles, bringing her the basket.
After games and food, Gemma opens her gifts, and I write down every item while Everleigh takes pictures. Watching her excitement makes me so happy for her and Tyler, and it makes me even more eager to hold my babies. Since they’re waiting to learn the gender, most of the clothes are yellows, greens, teals, and purples.
Once they’re all opened, Belinda announces it’s time to count the clothespins to see who won the grand prize, which is a hundred-dollar gift certificate to the deli.
The door opens, then slams with a loud bang. Eyes stare at the woman marching in with a deep scowl on her face. I don’t recognize her, and by the looks of everyone else, they don’t either.
“Hello, can I help you?” Belinda asks nicely.
“I’m looking for Everleigh Blackwood,” she sneers.
Oh shit, this can’t be good. The woman’s flaming red hair is perfectly curled at the ends, and her green eyes pop against her pale skin. There’s a big shiny rock on her left ring finger, and I have a gut feeling I know where this is going.
“I’m Everleigh,” she announces next to me. She stands and waits for the woman to stalk over.
Before any words are exchanged, the woman slaps Everleigh across the face. Gasps echo through the room.
Just as I’m about to yell at the woman, she speaks up.
“You homewrecking whore! You slept with my husband!”
Yep, that’s where I thought this was going.
Everleigh holds a hand to her cheek and furrows her brows. “I did not!”
I lean over and ask, “Who’s your husband?”
“Eric Hudson,” she replies.
My eyes widen in shock as I direct them toward Everleigh. “You slept with the bodyguard?”
Everleigh shrugs with a guilty expression. “Well, yeah. But he wasn’t wearing a ring. I didn’t know he was married!” she defends.
“Well, he is!” the woman exclaims. “Perhaps you should ask a man before jumping into bed with him.”
“Perhaps he shouldn’t be sleepin’ around then,” Everleigh counters.
The woman lowers her eyes up and down, then scoffs. “Perhaps you should cover your body, and you wouldn’t be temptin’ a spoken for man.”
I snort at her sexist comment, and she scowls at me.
“I think your anger is directed at the wrong person here,” I say kindly. “Eric should be to blame.”
