He rubbed my stomach through the stretchy orange fabric of my pajamas.
“And the little guy?”
“Great. I think he’s going to be a soccer player. He’s been kicking up a storm all morning.”
Cillian raised his eyebrows. “Whatever floats his boat during adolescence. But once he’s out of university, he’s going to have to take his place at Royal Pipelines.”
Groaning, I grabbed the tip of my husband’s tie and tugged him to me, shutting him up with a kiss. “We’ve been through this, hubs. He is going to be whatever he wants to be. He is not you.”
We’d had a lot of discussions about what it meant for Cillian to be Cillian. The heir to Royal Pipelines. How maybe, if it weren’t for the burden of his lineage, he wouldn’t have had to find creative and destructive ways to deal with his disorder. A disorder that still—apart from myself, Andrew, and Joelle Arrowsmith—no one knew anything about.
Not even his mother, who—Kill told me once—probably blocked the memory of that Swiss lab in order to protect herself.
“Of course,” he said flatly. “He can be whatever he wants. A soccer player, a musician, a pool boy.”
I shot him a look.
“But he’ll want to be a CEO,” Kill finished, grinning.
“All righty.” Belle tapped my ankles. “I think we’re going to leave you to it before you rip off each other’s clothes and have very pregnant sex in front of us. It’s been real. Pers, Mom says she is coming this week, and that she’s staying. She has a feeling you will pop over the weekend.” She stood, motioning for my friends to follow.
“I’ll have Petar get one of the guest rooms ready,” Kill said.
“But I haven’t rubbed Persy’s tummy yet today!” Ash protested.
“God, Ash, you need your own baby.” Sailor laughed, pushing her out.
“I’ve a feeling she’ll get one soon,” Belle murmured, closing the door behind them.
Kill flashed the door an irritated look, then turned his gaze back to me.
I raised my palms up. “I can’t help what leaves my sister’s mouth.”
“If you could, you’d have a full-time job managing it. Have you heard from Joelle this week? She asked when she could stop by.”
Shortly after Cillian and I got back together, I resumed my communication with Joelle Arrowsmith. She was going through a divorce from Andrew, who was still in therapy, working in the private sector as a legal consultant and trying to become a better father for Tree and Tinder. Joelle was relieved when I started visiting her again, often with Cillian, who kept an eye on Tinder and often provided Joelle advice and guidance.
I’d even taken the kids and my husband to see Mrs. Veitch for a Christmas celebration at her nursing home. She died a few weeks after in her sleep.
“I need to call her back, but I’m hoping the next time I see her, I’ll have a baby