Page 53 of No First Kisses

“So, you buried the locket at Lettie’s grave. Why?”

I don’t mention that Sam told me she did it or the fact that he was the one to tell me where she was. Not after she left a note saying she’d be back later and nothing else.

“Because,” Poppy bites out. “I’m already a geriatric pregnancy, according to dickwad Dr. Kyle. I don’t want to invite ghosts into the house with our baby. Even if it’s your sister’s ghost.”

Out of all the things that may have come out of her mouth, I never thought it would be that.

“Are you still afraid of ghosts?” I ask her, rubbing my hand over her stomach gently. “I thought that was just a phase.”

“Ghosts are real, Lo.” She elbows me in the stomach again. “With all the bad things in our world, all the things that happen with no reason, you can’t sit here and tell me they aren’t.” She nestles into my side again, and I pull the blanket off the back of the couch and cover her with it.

“I don’t know about actual ghosts,” I admit quietly, even though I can hear her soft snores fill the air. “But I do know that the ghosts from my past might be bad enough to destroy everything we’ve built.” I kiss her head again. “And I’ll do anything to keep that from happening.”

19

POPPY

Five thousand pieces of baby clothing later, and I finally feel like I’m ready to put everything away. Okay, maybe not actually five thousand, but it feels pretty close.

I have to cut the tags off everything, wash it, and put it away according to size. It isn’t easy, and by the time I’m finally halfway through the massive pile of stuff, I want to be able to drink again. Even if it’s only to forget the nightmare that comes with washing all those baby clothes.

For about the millionth time, I wonder why no one ever talks about the miserable side of pregnancy.

In fact, I pick up my phone and call Parker on video chat. Because if I’m miserable, I know she absolutely has to be.

“Can we just talk about this for a minute?” As soon as she picks up and I see the pizza she has hanging out of her mouth, I start in and flip the camera around. “All the baby clothes. Like, yes, pregnancy is magical and wonderful and I am beyond blessed to get to have a child. I get it. But why didn’t anyone warn me about the thousands of baby clothes I’d have to wash and put away so none of the chemicals would hurt my baby.”

Parker starts laughing almost immediately, and by the time I’m done with my mini rant, she is practically gasping for air.

“Oh. Oh, it hurts.” She laughs some more. “But it’s so true. So many clothes.”

“And the farting,” I go on. “So much farting, and I can’t even control it. I think I farted a dozen times when I bent over to grab the clothes that dropped off the side of the bed.”

“I love you, Poppy,” Remy interrupts our conversation loudly. “But I don’t want to hear about you farting. Women don’t fart.”

“Zip it, Townsend,” I growl when I see his smiling face appear behind Parker. “Or I’m going to tell your wife about how you take an hour in the bathroom when you’re doing your business.”

Parker chortles, her phone shaking as she tries to keep it still. “I already know. He’s miserable. I’m just glad we have as many bathrooms as we do.” She laughs again. “Are you done washing all the baby stuff for now?”

“Yes,” I say dramatically. “I just have to finish finding places to shove it all.”

Then I set my phone down and start putting away the clothes anywhere I can, while she stares at my ceiling.

“Why are you on the damn video part, if you’re not even looking at each other?” Remy walks away, his footsteps echoing through our connection.

“Because I can do whatever I want to,” Parker practically shouts. “I’m pregnant and because you cursed an almost dead man, now I’m having twins.” She whispers into the phone after that. “Sorry, I gotta make him think I’m upset so he’ll feel bad and rub my back for me later.”

When I finish stacking baby clothes in random places that will have to work until I figure out something better, I pick up my phone and smile. “It’s okay. Apparently, I’m breaking bed rest rules, even though if I didn’t do it, then nothing would get done.”

Parker snorts. “I’m with you on that. I love being pregnant. I love the babies that come as a result, but I also think that we should be allowed to be miserable too.”

“I love that you’re the miserable one with me,” I tell her. “Chloe loves being pregnant, and so does Emma. Kennedy, well, I’m sure she’s just as miserable as we are, but there’s no chance she’s gonna tell Linc that. He’d lose his mind trying to make it better for her.”

Parker nods. “Oh, definitely. Oop. I gotta go. Gotta pee before I wet myself.” She disconnects the call before I can say goodbye, but it doesn’t bother me.

Parker and I talk almost every day, especially since she is ready to pop and can’t go to work at Lucy’s anymore.

We are officially the bed rest crew. We even talk about getting t-shirts. But by the time they would be delivered, neither of us will be pregnant anymore and no one will understand the joke.

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