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“Great.” I snag another pastry. “Looking forward to that.”
Note to self; wear nice, ass-complimenting clothing every time I leave the apartment from now on, lest a photographer or twenty be waiting to catch a morning shot.
I thought Cass was joking, or at least exaggerating, when he described the horde lingering outside my apartment building. I didn’t think we’d actually have to smuggle ourselves out the back entrance in baseball caps and sunglasses—I didn’t even know our buildinghada back entrance. It was the weirdest, surrealist experience, yet chatting to Luna and Amelia about it, I get the feeling it’s just a regular day in Cass Morgan’s illustrious life.
“Did you tell her about the baby shower?”
“Oh, yeah.” Luna snaps her fingers, adopting an‘I knew I was forgetting something’kind of expression. “We’re having a baby shower.”
The poor, neglected sixteen-year-old in me withers. “Fun.”
“Uh-huh. A month from Sunday.” Luna snickers, poking me like she always does whenever that particular day of the week comes up. “Send me your registry before you let anyone else see it, okay? I wanna get the good shit first.”
I frown at my half-eaten breakfast. “What registry?”
“A gift registry.” Luna sighs like I’m being difficult. “For the baby shower.”
“Why would I have a gift registry for Amelia’s baby shower?”
Luna pauses mid-bite of her own sugary breakfast. She blinks at me, slow and slightly scary. “I don’t know if I wanna punch you or cry.”
I blink right back. “Neither would be preferable.”
“Actually,” she reconsiders, cocking her head and staring at nothing. “I think I wanna punch that little redneck motherfucker who knocked you up the first time. And your parents. Maybe Willow a little too. ‘Cause this is really sad.”
Half-turning towards Amelia—you never turn your back on a ranting woman, after all—I silently plead for an explanation. She, angel that she is, takes pity on me. “The baby shower is for you.”
“Fool,” Luna adds.
“Oh.” What is this? Overwhelm Sunday Day? “Really?”
“Yes.” With a sigh of exasperation, Luna decides against the violence and pulls me into a side hug instead. “Jesus, Sunday. Every day you make me wanna love the neglected right out of you a little more.”
Choosing against acknowledging that, if only for my own sanity, I eye Amelia nervously. “What about you?”
She waves me off with a snort. “I’ve had three. I’m done. I swear I still have gifts from Rory’s.”
“Which brings us back to the registry, ” Luna butts in, giving me a squeeze. “Make it. Send it. Enjoy it.”
“You don’t have to get me anything.” Throwing the shower is nice enough. And they already got me that cake and the balloons. Honestly, the mere act of kindness is all I need.
“Just for that—” Luna squeezes me again, tighter this time, grasp akin to that of a boa constrictor. “—I’m getting you two things. Maybe the same thing in different colors just for the hell of it.”
“I—”
“Three things. I can do this all day, baby.”
Oh, I don’t doubt that. I don’t put it past Luna to build me a damn nursery out of spite alone, which is why I’m quick to give in. Letting my head fall to her shoulder, I sigh my defeat. “Thank you.”
A soft palm pats my cheek. “Good girl.”
“But if you’re really getting me two things—”
“I think you’re on four now.”
“--can one of them be for August? I didn’t have a baby shower for him and I don’t want him to feel…” Left out. Second best. Neglected, like I allegedly was.
Luna doesn’t need an explanation; she’s nodding before the question even really leaves my mouth, probably already concocting the perfect gift in that pretty head of hers. “Don’t worry. If there’s one thing we know how to do, it’s spoil the hell out of a child.”
