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Seeing the happy couple, I rub my chest where Josephine’s lips impression are tattooed over my heart.Where is she?I scan the room and find her sitting in the main living area with Opal. Josephine had promised Gauge to keep her company while he participated in Tank’s initiation into the club.
Opal is cuddling Runt and Hades sits at her feet, his back to her, guarding her against the others in the room. Hades has always had a sixth sense of protecting those who are vulnerable.
Amazingly, Josephine talked Opal into joining the festivities. The silver puppy may have something to do with it. Opal loves animals, and the way Runt is attacking her with puppy kisses proves the dog loves her too. A giggle erupts from Opal. Gauge’s head whips in her direction.
“I haven’t heard her laugh in weeks,” he murmurs next to me, pain evident in his tone.
Seeing my best friend overwhelmed, I lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder the way he always does with me when I’m at my wits’ end. “This is good, Gauge. Between therapy, talking with Jo, and you being there for her, I think she’s turning a corner.”
Gauge’s eyes don’t leave her. “I’m trying to figure out how Jo got her downstairs.”
“She bribed her with the puppy, duh,” Punk says behind us.
“Your girl is in good hands, or paws,” I say, squeezing his shoulder. “Come enjoy the meal with your brothers.” Gauge sits with me, but glances at his woman, keeping tabs on her.
In the dining room filled with our family, we laugh, enjoy our meal, and toast our newest member. I get up at one point and insist my mother-in-law sit to enjoy the meal instead of running around and serving others. I fix a plate for Josephine and bring it out to her in the living room. She’s eating for three now and needs the fuel.
Hades growls as I approach, but I move to sit on the other side of Josephine. The dog still has it out for me after knocking up hismamá. “Quiet dog or I’ll muzzle you.” I smile at Josephine and say, “You must be starving; I brought you a plate.”
She takes the plate and sets it in her lap. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m nauseous. I’ll eat something later.”
I frown. “Your appetite has been off all week. You need to eat something. Please try.”
Reluctantly, she takes a bite. She swallows, grimacing as she puts the plate on the coffee table. “No more.”
“But you love pasta salad.”
“It’s not sitting well.”
I throw her what I’m sure is a desperate look. “Baby, the babies!”
“Shhh! Mind your words.”
Aw, hell! She’s right.I need to keep my voice down. Several family members have been told or have accidentally found out, but not all. Nearly everyone is enjoying the party, but anyone can pass by and overhear.
Opal hugs Runt in one arm and pats Josephine’s knee with her free hand. “Atlas is only concerned. It makes him a good husband and dad.”
Thank you, Opal!I am concerned, really fucking concerned. Her doctor said to communicate with each other. Technically, I’m just following the doctor’s orders. I admit I’ve become somewhat of an overbearing asshole—more than my usual assholey-self—but it’s only because I care and worry about her safety. Buying every baby self-help book at the local bookstore may have been overkill, but I want to know everything.
Josephine has been doing her part, limiting her work hours and following her doctor’s instructions. She amazes me with how well she has been taking everything in stride and managing her anxiety.
Josephine takes my hand. “The babies are fine. Lack of appetite is normal at this stage in pregnancy.”
“But you’ve lost weight. You’re supposed to gain weight, not lose it.”
My wife lets out a long sigh. “Maceo, we’ve been over this. The babies are fine. They’re getting everything they need from me. Yes, I may be losing weight, but trust me, they’re gaining.”
I stare at her nonexistent baby pouch. “It doesn’t look like it.”
“Well, they are,” Josephine says, her voice firm.
“And where’s the proof?” I ask, pointing at her stomach.
“Jesus, Maceo! I’m only eight weeks. They’re the size of kidney beans. My stomach will not pop out from two kidney beans.”
Fine, I’ll give her that point.
Stella appears with a plate of French bread with peanut butter and a banana. She slides it across the coffee table to her youngest daughter. “The pasta salad has vinegar, Atlas. It’s too acidic on her sensitive stomach. Bland food is what she needs. The peanut butter and banana will help her keep her stomach contents down.” Stella winks at me before moving back to the party.
