I kick back the thoughts and the direction they’re taking me when we pull into Jonah’s driveway. It’s lined with cars and Emma visibly tenses.
Gia would never get this nervous around people whether she knew them or not.
Fuck. Stop it!
I throw the car in park and walk around to open her door.
She hops out, her army-green Toms practically silent as her feet hit the concrete. Her chin tilts back and she looks up at me. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t.” I grab her hand and we walk to the door, but before we get there it swings open.
“Hey, guys. I saw you pull up.” Layla wobbles a few steps, arms outstretched and belly that looks freakishly huge against her tiny frame.
“Hey, Momma.” I lean down and do my best to hug her with the basketball bulge between us. “How’re you feelin’?”
She pulls back and rests a forearm on her stomach. “Hmm . . . like an overstuffed penguin with a grapefruit shoved up its a—”
“Mouse, baby.” Blake comes from behind her, wraps his arms around her and rubs her stomach with both hands. He kisses her neck. “Don’t act like you don’t love carrying my kid.”
She tilts her head and smiles up at him. “Yeah, I do love carrying our kid.”
Blake drops a soft kiss on her lips and my mind cranks back to Gia. It’s amazing how the slight brush of lips can communicate just as much as a passion-filled tongue intrusion. My lips tingle to feel it again. I roll my lip ring between my teeth to squelch the ache.
“Who do we have here?” Blake straightens from Layla, pulling her to his side with an arm thrown over her shoulders.
“Oh, right.” Fuck, I’m horrible at shit like this. “Emma, this is Blake and Layla.”
She inches closer to me and smiles.
Layla’s gaze slides to mine, a sadness in her eyes that makes me drop my gaze. She clears her throat. “Emma, nice to meet you.”
Layla blames me for Gia’s cut-and-run. She didn’t understand what happened and was upset thinking I’d exiled her. Blake, not liking to see his pregnant girlfriend sad, came after me and insisted I explain everything.
I did. Mostly.
A girl from my past pretended to be someone else to get close to me. They understand why things ended between us—betrayal and lies are hard to overcome—but I know Layla misses her friend. My chest goes tight and I grip my shirt there. God, so do I.
“Nice to meet you.” Emma mumbles, avoiding Blake and Layla’s eyes.
“Well, come on in. You’ve got to see how big baby Slade’s getting.” Layla turns into the house and we follow inside.
Before we’re in the living room, I can hear the cooing of female voices. I walk around the corner and almost burst out laughing.
Emma’s hand slides into the crook of my elbow. “Aww, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I look down at her and then back to the hysterical situation in front of me.
Jonah, all six-foot-five inches and as wide as a damn car, is wearing some bright pink thing draped from his shoulder to his ribs. It reminds me of the way Gia would wear her messenger bag, slicing across her chest and accentuating her full breasts. But whereas Gia’s bag made her look hot, Jonah’s pink wrapper makes him look like an idiot.
He’s smiling down at the tiny bulge behind the fuchsia nightmare at his chest. When he looks up, he spots us right away, but he’s still grinning like a jackass. “Rex, man, you gotta see this.”
I step up and clap him on the shoulder. “Nice shawl, brother.”
Jonah’s smile falls slightly and his eyes narrow. “It’s called a sling, ass face.”
I stifle a laugh. “Don’t give a rip what it’s called; you look like a dumb ass wearing it.”
Blake coughs and clears his throat, his hand covering his mouth.
Jonah’s glare moves back and forth between us. “For your information, this sling holds my daughter against my chest at all times.” His big hand cups the tiny bump behind the fabric.
Raven comes up and gives me a hug. She’s all smiles and soft looks, and the extra baby weight she’s carrying has only added exotic curves to her already hot-as-hell self. “She went from nine months of hearing my heartbeat in the dark, feeling safe and warm. We just want her to keep feeling that for as long as we can.”
Jonah glares. “It’s called attachment parenting, fuckers.”
“Joey!” Katherine, Jonah’s mom, reprimands him from the couch.
“And for your information, I have one coming that’s black with skulls and blood splatter.” His face goes soft and he gazes down at the bump. “You’re going to love that, aren’t you, my princess?”
I point to the bright girlie wrap. “That tiny bump in there is the baby?”
He grins wide. “Yeah, come here. You gotta see this.” He pulls out the edge of the fabric and nods for me to peek inside.