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Now, Cordelia Kensington, the self-appointed mommy club queen, couldn’t resist a jab. “Can a man who’s bedded thousands of women really find happiness with you after you’ve been stretched to oblivion?”
Madison’s face flushed with heat, her blood boiling. “What?”
Cordelia let out a laugh.Or, more like a cackle. “Oh, sweetie, I was only kidding. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”
Cheeks flamed and hot, Madison took in a deep, soothing breath, centering herself.Calm down.If I smart back, or throat punch her, our children will be blacklisted from every birthday party from here to eternity.
And…my blood pressure…
“Are you kidding?” Jess sauntered into the conversation, interrupting as a challenged grin adorned her face. She draped an arm around Madison’s shoulders with a reassuring squeeze. “Poor Madison could use a break. I mean, let’s be real, when it comes to Madison, it’s like Alex Drake has made it his personal mission to seed an entire football team—vajayjay be damned.”
Madison’s couldn’t help but laugh, grateful for Jess’s lighthearted support. A surge of warmth and love wrapped her—relieved as her pulse gradually slowed.
Cordelia narrowed her eyes, casually swishing the contents of her drink. “I actually dated him once, you know.”
Madison’s mother, Joy, quickly positioned herself on the other side of Madison, fierce and protective, but still sporting a grin. Gently, she placed her hand in Madison’s, and replied, “Just the once, right, honey?”
Their hands intertwined, their fingers interlocking. In that simple gesture, the unyielding love between them was palpable, a connection that transcended words.
This was a love that stretched beyond themselves, encompassing the two tiny hearts nestled within Madison’s womb—a profound bond they’d always share as a family.
Madison couldn’t savor the moment for too long, the air thick with the imminent eruption of Cordelia’s head. It was like a ticking time bomb, ready to obliterate the cheerful atmosphere and shatter Madison’s aspirations of harmonious playdates for their children. If she was going to salvage the party, now was the time.
Latching onto her inner diplomat, Madison spotted just the distraction for a room full of women and children: cake. Three tiers of fluffy buttercream adorned with fresh strawberries should do the trick.
Clinking a fork against her ginger ale filled champagne flute, producing a pleasant chime that cut through the chatter. The room fell into a hushed anticipation, all eyes on Madison.
“May I have everyone’s attention?” Madison announced, her voice full of warmth despite the small, wailing baby screech at the back of the room and a mother beet red with embarrassment.
Madison’s smile widened. That would be her soon enough, times two. “I wanted to take a moment to celebrate the joyous occasion of new life and friendship that has brought us all together today. And what better way to do that than with a heavenly slice of this Strawberry-Lemonade mascarpone cream cake?”
As Madison poised the cake knife, anticipation hung thick in the air. The crowd held their breath, ready for the moment of sweet indulgence. But before she could make that first glorious slice, a shrill voice pierced through the room.
“No!” The word echoed, reverberating with a mix of shock and excitement, shattering the entire space.
All heads turned toward the commotion. It was Timothy, Cordelia’s delightfully spry and spoiled pride and joy. At four years old, he was giving Damian quite the run for his money.
Madison couldn’t help but release a chuckle, the sound escaping her lips despite the slight disruption to her planned speech. Timothy was a pint-sized tornado of mischief as he dashed through the room, skillfully maneuvering between the ladies, his tiny hands in white-knuckled death grip around one of the baby shower gift as if it were a prized treasure.
She couldn’t help but envision her own future little ones reaching Timothy’s age, wreaking havoc wherever they went. Damian, ever the diligent guard, raced after the energetic youngster, his strides purposeful and determined and maybe an ounce murderous. It was like watching the giant chase after Jack, seconds before crashing down from the towering beanstalk.
Yes, Timothy’s behavior was appallingly rude, but it was nothing compared to that of his mother. Cordelia simply stood there, barely flinching, as her little terror tore into the gift wrap like a hurricane unleashed.
Still, it wasn’t worth causing more of a scene or fueling more of a raging dumpster fire blazing behind Damian’s eyes. He’d already been bested by Jordan. And now, to be outrun by a pint-sized Tasmanian devil?
If that kid didn’t watch out, Damian just might eat him.
Madison reached out and snatched Damian’s arm as he circled her for the third time, effectively halting his admirable pursuit. “It’s fine,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “What’s one gift when there are two hundred more to go?”
Irritation flickered across Damian’s face as he retorted, his voice laced with exasperation. “Yes, ma’am. What’s one gift out of two hundred?”
“Precisely my point.”
He pointed to the child making a scene. “Exceptthatgift is from Jordan.” His eyes scanned the room, indifference etching on his brow. “Why worry, ma’am? Perhaps the high society of Manhattan would be ecstatic to see the unveiling of what’s buzzing inside? Perhaps it’s an electric toothbrush.”
“Shit,” Madison huffed.
“Exactly,” Damian deadpanned.
