Rex muffles his laughter and takes a huge gulp from his protein shake, clearly not at all affected by the conversation.
I tilt my head and study Jonah. How can he look so calm? He’s more of a hothead than I ever was, and yet he’s over there with a grin that would rival the Dalai Lama: all peace and harmony and not demonstrating even a sliver of the fear I can’t seem to shake. Of course, he’s not contending with a threat from the past in the form of a fucking email either.
“You guys know what you’re having yet?” Rex pulls out a chair from the table, flips it around, and straddles it to prop his forearms on the back.
“Girl.” It has to be because I can’t raise a boy. The familiar panic I’ve been pushing down for the last nine months rushes to the surface.
“No kidding? A girl. Congratulations, man. Thought you guys wanted it to be a surprise.” Jonah shoves a heaping spoonful of yogurt in his mouth.
“We do. That’s what my gut tells me. We don’t actually know for sure.” As many times as I’ve tried to convince Layla that we should find out the sex, mostly so I could prepare, she’s relentless and refuses. She says that she remembers the look on Jonah’s face when he found out he had a little girl, and she wants to see the same expression on mine. Shit. I groan and rub my temples.
“What if it’s a boy?” Rex shrugs, but his gaze is intent on me.
What if? Most likely I’ll fuck the kid up just as my dad did me. I mean, what if my son ends up lying, being disrespectful, sneaking around, and doing shit I don’t like . . . just as I did? A cold sweat breaks out over my skin, and I frantically search for a subject change. “You guys ever heard of a mucus plug?”
They all respond in some form of negative, and I explain what it is in graphic detail.
Mason shoves his food a good two feet from him. “You fucking asshole.” He gags and swallows hard. “Got a fight coming up, and I need to eat to train, and you drop that kind of crap—” He gags again.
“That’s fuckin’ nasty.” Rex laughs and downs the rest of his shake without even cringing.
Jonah plays with his yogurt, scooping spoonfuls and watching them plop back into the container, a look of disgust on his face. “I’m with Mason.” He turns and tosses the half-eaten container into the trash. “That’s disgusting.”
“Oh, but puke and shit are okay.” I shake my head and push up from the table. Talking about this crap isn’t making me feel better. If anything, it only reminds me how unprepared I am for parenthood.
Why can’t they all be as easy as Axelle? Yeah, she’s dealing with shit, but at least we can talk it out. In a year, she’ll be an adult and off to college. Easiest parenting gig ever.
“You ready?” I flick the back of Mason’s head while moving past him to the training center.
I hear something hit the trash, probably his uneaten food. “Yeah, I’ll take hits from you over this conversation any day.”
*
Layla
I roll over and stare at my phone as it vibrates on the pillow next to me. I had it on the bedside table but got sick of reaching over to grab it every time it rang. I check the screen again.
Unavailable.
I send it to voicemail and drop it back to the pillow. Whoever has been calling me over these last couple days hasn’t left a single message, and it’s starting to creep me out. I considered talking to Blake about it, but he has enough on his mind as it is. I’m not even sure exactly what it is that has him acting so funny: not sleeping, spacing out in the middle of a conversation, and a general moroseness that is far from his normal easy-going attitude. In an attempt to pinpoint when his mood shifted, I track back week by week in my head. Christmas? Yeah, I’d say it was sometime around then, but why?
A long sigh falls from my lips, and I roll from my side to my back, kicking all the covers off and resting my hands on my pregnant belly.
“Sorry, little guy.” I can’t explain why I feel as if the baby is a boy, but I do. Maybe it’s because Blake’s such a powerful man—I can’t imagine him producing anything but boys—or maybe it’s wishful thinking. “No sleep for us.” No matter how tired I am or how long I lie down with my eyes closed, I’m finding it harder and harder to sleep. I should clean something. Surely there’s something in the house that needs to be sanitized . . . again.
I suppose I could drag my ass to the training center and do some busy work for Cameron. If nothing else, I’ll get to hang out with Eve and lose myself in some effortless girl talk.
“Hey, Mama.” Axelle pops her head in through the bedroom door, backpack slung over her shoulder.
I throw my legs over the side of the bed and push to sit up. My lungs crushed from the baby, I take a deep breath from the effort.
Her eyebrows pinch together. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just waking up from a nap. How was school?”