Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,84

his backpack once she had his lunch finished. "Does that mean you're going to start paying rent soon?"

"You're changing the subject." He pointed at my stomach. "You're telling me that right now it's a ..."

"Sweet potato," I supplied helpfully. "I felt a hiccup yesterday too."

Paige gasped. "You did? When?"

"Last night." I rubbed my bump. "Super weird."

Emmett ignored Paige's oohing and aahing. "And in a few weeks, it's going to be a carrot, Lia." He held out his hands. "A frickin’ carrot."

"You're right." I sighed. "It doesn't make sense."

"Thank you." He grabbed the backpack from Paige and hugged her around the waist. "Do I need my coat today?"

She pointed at the windows overlooking the backyard. "Do you see the snow outside? It's January, bro."

"Is that a yes?"

I laughed into my last bite of oatmeal. Paige walked to the mudroom and shoved his winter coat over his giggling face.

"That's a yes. I don't need your school sending your ass back home because I'm an inept parent." She yanked a winter hat over his head once his coat was over his arms. "Especially since I'm just around the corner from being a non-grandma grandma," she cried.

I shook my head while Emmett dissolved into laughter at her mock-crying. Paige was having an identity crisis over what her “grandparent name” was going to be, as she'd unilaterally dismissed the actual label of Grandma.

"Language," I said.

She blinked. "What did I say?"

"Ass," Emmett answered, pushing the winter hat up his forehead.

"That hardly counts," said Paige.

The school bus driver honked her horn from the front of the house, and Emmett shouted his goodbyes to us, then disappeared.

"I frickin’ love that kid," she said, peeking out the windows by the front door as the bus drove off.

"Me too." I picked up the apple he'd discarded and started slicing it up. My new rule was one piece of fruit for every sweet or carb I wanted to shove in my face.

"What's on the calendar today?" Paige asked.

"I have some reading to do. I've slacked off this week since I finally started organizing all that stuff from Christmas."

"All that stuff from Christmas," she mused happily. "Your face was priceless."

The apple was crisp and sweet and crunchy, and I finished swallowing before I answered. "I'm going to have to move out simply because there's not enough room in the house for me, little Sweet Potato, and all the shit you're buying for it."

Her face shuttered, and I had a momentary pang of regret for bringing it up again. But I made a promise to myself the first week home from England. No more avoiding the hard. It was not allowed.

Not like I minded living back at home for the past month.

The first week had been a lot of naps, a lot of Feelings Baths (where I cried in Logan and Paige's sunken jet tub in their bathroom, surrounded by mountains of bubbles), and a lot of subpar non-British scones because I swear, they baked differently in the States.

The second week went better. Christmas kept us busy with lots of food and laughter and shopping and cuddling under blankets on the couch while we watched all the movies we loved. I only sobbed once during It's a Wonderful Life. Fine, twice. Claire held my hand under the blankets. And my family spoiled Little (at the time) Avocado with more gifts than should have been allowed, considering the kid wasn't even born yet.

Blankets and footballs and books and a bassinet with beautifully carved wood that I suspected Logan and Paige spent a fortune on. It would fit perfectly into my old bedroom. But the thing that made me lose it, sitting on the floor by our ten-foot Christmas tree, was the small box that bore marks of being shipped from the UK. Jude hadn't warned me he was sending anything, but when I sliced open the packing tape and folded back the white tissue paper, I saw the impossibly tiny Shepperton jersey bearing his number, and underneath it, a tiny board book about soccer. I cried quietly while Emmett laid his head on my shoulder and rubbed my back.

That was the first text between us since I'd returned home that gave me the first kindling of hope that we could get through this in a good place.

Me: Thank you for the present. It's perfect (a little big this year, but that's okay)

Jude: Whenever it fits, I can't wait to see. How was your day today?

Me: Good. More chaotic than usual this year. Molly is