How to Rattle an Undead Couple - Hailey Edwards Page 0,2
party.”
With a sweep of my hand, I invited him to admire my baggy sweats and blue tank top streaked with orange fingerprints from the cheeseballs I ate before bed. This one even had a built-in snack drawer, I mean, bra. “I am dressed.”
“You’re wearing clothes,” Neely agreed, wiping crumbs off my mouth. “From three days ago.”
Licking my lips before he stole any more precious calories, I pouted at him. “I like what I’m wearing.”
“I can tell,” he said dryly. “I’ll put it on to wash, and you can change back into it after the party.”
“No.”
“The photographer will be here soon. High Society Mothers needs candids for their article, remember?”
“No.”
“Don’t you want a visual history of this moment for your child to flip through later?”
“No.”
“Don’t you want—?”
“Another cupcake?” Lethe snapped her fingers, and Oscar reappeared, bouncing in place like he had to potty, he was so eager to get back to Eva. “I’ll give it to you if you cooperate.”
“No.”
A second cupcake appeared in Oscar’s hands, and Lethe grinned. “I’ll give you two.”
The deal interested me, of course, but I had already eaten two, and she was offering me two more. That meant I would have had four. She never ordered less than a dozen, so there were eight more cupcakes hidden somewhere in the house.
Hmm.
Oscar could be bribed with a new Nerf Blaster to bring me the rest, and then I wouldn’t have to move. Not moving was nice. I enjoyed it. So much it was my new favorite hobby.
A joyful zing through my bond with Woolly distracted me from my plotting, and my pulse skipped a beat.
“You made it just in time,” Neely said as the back door shut. “I was starting to worry.”
The rest, that he would have to wrangle the cranky pregnant lady alone, went unspoken.
Linus bent over the back of the ridiculous chair, brushed his cool lips across my bare shoulder, and chills skated in their wake.
Heart fluttering, I tipped my head back and stared up at him. “Hi.”
Tonight, his dark-auburn hair was gathered at his nape, a sure sign he had been working and didn’t feel up to fussing with it. Meanwhile, my fingers itched to slide off the elastic and run my fingers through the silky length. As if reading my mind, he smiled, crinkling the corners of his dark blue eyes, and I was lost.
“Hello,” he breathed in my ear. “Are you excited?”
The baby chose that moment to jump on my bladder like its own personal trampoline.
“So excited I could wet my pants.” I wriggled to emphasize my point. “Help?”
Linus circled around to the front of the chair, and we clasped forearms. He hauled me to my feet in a practiced move, and I was tempted to rise onto my tiptoes to smooch him until I remembered my ankles were swollen, and my ability to stand on tiptoe abandoned me around the seven-month mark.
After a brief trip to the little necromancer’s room, which also required Linus’s assistance since Woolly’s original toilets were shorter than modern ones, I allowed him to dress me in the downstairs salon while Lethe fed me the two cupcakes she owed me.
Oscar had vanished while I was distracted by Linus, taking all hope of more cupcakes with him.
Ah, well. Might as well save room for the main course. That cake in the kitchen wasn’t going to eat itself.
The outfit Neely had chosen was a maxi dress with the most flattering drape possible when you’re nine months pregnant and showing every hard-earned pound of it. Even the print made me smile. Dozens of baby rattles in all shapes, sizes, and colors speckled the fabric.
We didn’t put much stock in the whole pink or blue thing—I was a fan of purple myself—but it did simplify the big reveal portion of the evening.
Prepared for the worst, I scrunched up my toes. “You might as well show me what misery lies ahead.”
Given Neely’s affinity for fancy toe prisons, I worried about my swollen feet’s imminent incarceration.
All that stress bled from my soles when Linus unboxed a pair of leather ballet flats in a sunny yellow.
“Brace on the wall,” he said, “and I’ll slide these on you.”
For the last two months, I hadn’t been able to see my feet over my belly. Forget bending or pulling on real shoes. I had given up on those altogether and embraced a maternity in Crocs. They made my feet happy, I could take them off and put them on by myself, and they came in a variety