Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,90

mine. I really don’t know what I’m doing; I’m just imagining what Jenny would do if she were here in my place. According to Lucky, she’s good at giving advice and listening to people.

“Tell me everything.” My throat almost seizes up at that statement. I really don’t want her to spill her guts, but I know that Jenny would.

She stares off into space for a little while before looking at me. “I’m worried that my baby is going to be ugly.”

I bark out a laugh before I realize she’s serious. “What? I don’t think I understand.”

She pulls her hands out of mine and gestures at my face. “Look at you! You’re gorgeous, and Lucky is like an angel. You’re about to give birth to the two most beautiful babies who ever walked the earth, and then I’m going to come along behind you with this plain old baby and nobody’s going to want to tell me the truth about him, but they’re all going to feel sorry for me, and then Ozzie won’t love me anymore because I gave him what looks like an ugly child compared to yours but might actually be a fairly cute one.”

I have to turn sideways in my chair and pretend like I’m coughing to hide my laughter. She cannot possibly be serious, can she? She’s being completely ridiculous. Hell, if she can love that ugly-ass Chihuahua mutt she’s got, she can love anything. His ears are like shovels planted into his skull, his head’s the size of a baseball and twice as big as it should be, and his eyes always look like they’re in danger of popping right out onto the floor. May’s love is deaf, dumb, and blind.

With that thought, I remember a couple paragraphs from my pregnancy book telling me how emotional women can get when they’re pregnant, and how unreasonable some people might consider them to be. The lightbulb goes on: she’s got pregnancy brain. And if this happens to me, I’m going to want a lot of understanding people around, so I have to be that person for her. I imagine myself as Jenny again; she’s one of the most understanding people I know.

I turn back toward her. “May, listen to me. Right now you have a lot of pregnancy hormones in your system that are causing you to hallucinate. Badly. So what you need to do is listen to me, because I’m not being crazy like you are.” I wait for her to nod her acceptance before continuing. “First of all, there is no way that any baby made by you could be ugly.” I gesture at her head, hoping to find inspiration there. “You have gorgeous, thick hair. It’s not frizzy, it’s not thin, it’s not any of those things that girls hate. So if you have a girl or a boy, you’re cool with the hair.”

She wipes a tear from under her eye. “I do have pretty thick hair. You’re right about that.”

I bump her knee with my fist. “See? And your face . . . Your face is awesome. You’ve got a really nice complexion and no scars.” I lean in closer and point to my temple where Charlie hit me with a fork once. “You see that? A scar. My face isn’t nearly as pretty as you think it is. You just need to look closer.”

She uses the heel of her hand to push my forehead away from her. “Be quiet. You know you’re gorgeous, and your babies aren’t going to inherit your scars.”

Thank God for small favors. I point at her chin. “Look at your jawline, though. Perfectly feminine. You could have been one of those chicks with a really manly jaw, but you’re not. You look like a girly girl. Like . . . a fairy princess or something.” I pulled that right out of my butt, so I cringe, waiting for her to scowl and yell at me.

A shy smile comes out and starts to glow from her face. “A fairy princess? No one has ever called me a fairy princess before. And you never lie, Toni. You would never say anything just to make somebody feel better.”

I nod enthusiastically. “You’re right. If you were ugly, I’d just tell you. Boom. You’re a dog. But I wouldn’t say that to you because it’s not true.” It may or may not be entirely correct to say that I always tell the bold-faced truth, but I don’t need to share that insight with

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