Page 137 of Method for Matrimony


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I was a week overdue, and Kip was out on the deck grilling. My mother was out on the beach, doing some kind of energy ritual I didn’t understand. She hadn’t seemed distressed upon hearing that Kip had killed Emmet. In fact, I would have almost called my now-vegan mother gleeful at the news. She hadn’t been at all gleeful about the trauma I had to endure in order to get to the killing part. But Emmet being dead was a… comfort to her.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t out on that beach clearing away his energy any chance she got.

“The last thing you need is a vengeful spirit, darling,” she told me before heading out there.

I let my mother do her thing because there wasn’t much choice otherwise. She was a force of nature in her own right. Mostly because that’s who she was now but also because she was working hard at making up, earning forgiveness.

It felt nice to have a mother here, nurturing me in her own way. It didn’t repair or erase the past, but I was done living there anyway.

Deidre was in the kitchen with me, making salad to go with dinner. I was sitting on the counter, sipping on raspberry leaf tea that was meant to induce labor. But then so was bouncing on that fucking ball, having sex, spicy food, and brisk walks. None of it was working.

It was more than a little frustrating. I was trusting her to come when she was ready, but I thought my womb was meant to be inhospitable. She seemed pretty fucking cozy in there.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Deidre asked after we’d been quiet for a while. Though she talked a million miles a minute, my mother-in-law also had the talent for knowing when to let me think and sit in comfortable silence.

I still hadn’t met my father-in-law. I wondered if I ever would. If Kip would ever attempt to repair that break. But then sometimes you couldn’t. Sure, it was nice to have a newfound relationship with my previously estranged mother, but it didn’t always work that way. People didn’t always change. Some people just stayed assholes.

I’d met his sister once. She’d come for lunch one day with Deidre. She was nice but slightly cold. Buttoned-up, proper, and would cringe in embarrassment if her mother laughed too loud or joked with the waitress.

It made sense to me why Kip had gravitated toward Rowan and his siblings more. But I felt sad for Deidre, to live in a stifling environment like I guessed she might. Not that she seemed stifled.

“I’ve been scared,” I admitted to her after pondering her question. Sure, I could’ve just said I was fat, tired, and ready to get this baby out, but she’d asked the question because she wanted an answer. A real one. “This entire time. Scared I was going to lose her.” I put one hand on my stomach, where she kicked in response.

Deidre gave me a soft look, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “Of course, you have, honey. You don’t stop worrying about them,” she said. “Not once they’re born.” She looked out to the deck. “Not even thirty-five years after that.”

I smiled out toward my husband, who caught my eye immediately. “Is it time?” he asked for the third time that day.

I smiled, shaking my head. “Not yet, babe,” I replied.

He pursed his lips. “Keep me updated,” he called.

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need to keep you updated when you’re all but superglued to my side. Don’t worry, you’ll notice when a puddle of water hits the ground beside you,” I called back.

He shook his head but didn’t reply, just turned his attention back to the grill.

“Overprotective American macho men,” I muttered to myself, shaking my own head.

“I don’t worry so much now,” Deidre said.

I looked up at her and her glistening gaze.

“Now that he’s got you, I sleep much better,” she said quietly. “I worried, after he lost the girls, that he’d lost his light, his potential for a second chance. But here you are.” Her eyes went to my stomach. “Here you both are.”

“Here we both are,” I agreed.

* * *

I went into labor without fanfare.

Which was fine with me. There had been plenty of fanfare since the fucking wedding.

We needed a little bit of calm.

And who would’ve thought the offspring of Kip and me would be calm?

But it turned out our daughter was, if her birth was anything to go by.

My water broke, not in a big Hollywood moment but in the bathroom at home. I’d wiped it up with some old towels and had a long shower before telling Kip.

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