“Of course,” he quipped. “Who marries someone they’ve only known for three months? What the hell happened to you two out there?”
I laughed. “Haven’t you ever been struck by the thunderbolt, Arch?”
“No,” he said, sounding relieved. “But if ever I am, I will let you know.”
“Oh, I’ll know,” I assured him. “It hits the skeptics the hardest.”
He laughed. “Even more reason to run if I hear the rumble.”
I thought about Auggie. “Take it from me, dear brother. You won’t hear it coming till it’s upon you.”
“Just do me a favor,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Get a prenup.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “You are the absolute worst, you know that? It’s a wonder I love you at all.”
“You had no choice,” he grinned before he kissed me on the cheek. “I’m Archer McPhee, for fuck’s sake!” I laughed. “Race ya home,” he said before he trotted ahead, but I wasn’t going to run anywhere, and he damn well knew it.
“You win!” I conceded.
“I always do!” he grinned before he turned for home.
I cradled my tummy. “That’s your Uncle Archer,” I said. “He’s a cheater-cheater poopy-pants,” I said, editing the word I would normally use. “But we love him.”
By the time I got back to the party, Mom and Dad had wrapped things up with another rousing rendition of We Are Family. This time Gav and Auggie joined in. It felt right. It felt complete.
It was the happiest I think I had ever been.
I shoulda known…
Chapter Twenty-One
One could tell that we had returned to Los Angeles by the sheer scope of PING, who seemed to be around every corner. It was time for my monthly checkup with Dr. Hamish, which had to be done two hours before the office opened to ensure we wouldn’t get any attention. We left Fifty Oaks at four o’clock in the morning so that we could get lost into early morning rush hour traffic in Los Angeles.
Auggie had been a part of my doctor’s visits since Georgia, so his presence, while comforting, also drew a little more attention than I would on my own. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Now that I had a partner for this journey, especially one as committed as Auggie, the whole experience opened somehow. I had someone who got just excited about the future as I was. I got someone who was as in awe of the journey to birth as I was. Every night, Auggie would sing to Peanut. He couldn’t wait to feel the baby move, though so far nothing had happened yet.
“It can take a while for the first one,” Dr. Hamish told us, advising it could be another month.
We were comforted instead by the sound of his heartbeat at every visit.
There had also been no bleeding, thanks to our selfless sacrifice of booty. It was a difficult price to pay some nights, when I felt his body harden against mine as we held each other close, whispering in the night, kissing each other goodnight for what felt like an hour.
But neither of us wanted a scare like we had in Georgia, so we’d stop just short of the point of no return. “Soon,” he’d growl in my ear, and all night long I’d dream of what I was missing in real life.
To celebrate another successful appointment, Auggie insisted on an impromptu shopping spree on Rodeo Drive.
“They’re going to see us,” I warned.
“So?” he’d counter. “Our relationship is no secret.”
I just nodded, though I was becoming more and more subconscious of my protruding belly. I had started wearing flowy tunics just to disguise the growing baby bump.
“I think we should just announce it,” he said when I brought it up. “Get ahead of it.” Off my look he added, “It’s not like it’s going to go away. Imagine what you’ll look like in August.”
“Thanks,” I clipped.
“You know what I mean,” he scolded softly. “Who cares if they know, Pea? Really?”
I sighed, thinking about Christopher. I lived in fear that when the whole story broke, he’d put two and two together. It would kick my tenuous castle and reduce it to sand. I knew Christopher. He was a slimy little opportunistic toadstool. The minute he thought he held any leverage at all, we’d never get rid of him.
But it wasn’t like I could point that out to Auggie. As far as he was concerned, it had been some nameless stranger I likely picked up at a bar. A harmless, teeny white lie… if Christopher didn’t