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I leave the cake on the counter and hurry back to the living room to find Mom holding Bean. She strokes her sleeping face with a whimsical smile. “How are you feeling, honey?”
Iz smiles and snuggles closer. “Pretty decent, actually. I’m still tired, but the iron pills are helping, and I’m not sore anymore. I mean, I am, but I’m not walking funny anymore,” she adds with a blush. “She sleeps so well, so I shouldn’t complain.”
“And the nursing? How’s it going?”
“She’s a pro. It’s like she came out already knowing.”
Mom smiles dreamily toward Bobby, which has each of her sons screwing up our faces. She nursed us once upon a time. She’s thinking about it right now.
Gag.
“Did you put the frozen diapers in your bra, like I said?”
Jack’s brows flare skeptically as he looks back and forth between my mom and Iz. “What?”
“Yeah, it’s just an ice pack, but it molds better to her shape. Cold to ease the swelling.”
He tilts his head to the side curiously. He’s thinking aboutmyfuture wife’s full boobs. Asshole. “Was it really that painful?”
“Yeah, it really hurts,” Mom answers.
And now I’m thinking about my mom’s full boobs. Dammit!
“Alright.”That’s enough boob talk.I stand up and walk to Tink. “Come with me.” I tug her away from Jon, and take satisfaction in the way his arm thumps down to the couch when her body no longer holds it up.
“Jim, listen, I think you’re pretty and everything–”
“Shut up, dork.” I toss her into the kitchen. “We need to get the cake ready.”
“You were thinking about your mom’s boobs, weren’t you?”
I clap both hands over my ears. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
She snickers and moves around the kitchen like she lives here. Grabbing a box of matches from under the sink and unwrapping candles, I stop with a cocked brow. “Ah, Tink, what’s with the numbers?”
“For her cake,” she distractedly breaks open the plastic packaging of a four and a five.
“Yes, for her cake… But she’s not forty-five, nor is she fifty-four.”
“I know, but she’s an asshole. She ate the last of my fudge ice-cream and didn’t replace the tub. So, this is what she gets.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“I’mveryserious, Jimothy! Don’t eat my fucking ice-cream.”
Oh my God, these women are going to kill us.
“Alright, we’re set. Start singing, puppet.”
She walks past and blows an air kiss. I swear, I’m tempted to trip her just to see if this fairy can fly. The day she and Jon finally decide to shack up, they’ll kill each other.
I can’t wait.
* * *
I pull the Jeep into Iz’s driveway and tug on the handbrake in the dark. I look across to find her smiling. Her cheeks finally have color again. Her eyes sparkle in the streetlight. She’s perfect. “Did you have fun?”
Nodding, she slowly unfastens her seatbelt. “I did, but I’m glad to be home. I’m pooped.”
