Page 64 of No First Kisses

Parker detaches the baby currently nursing and expertly flips him over and slaps his back in one smooth motion.

The biggest burp I’ve ever heard in my entire life leaves his body, and we all sit there in shock for a second.

“That’s a strong ten out of ten, if I’ve ever heard a burp in my entire life,” I finally mumble. “I don’t even think I could come up with one that great.”

When Parker offers me Brody again, I take him without questioning it. Chloe immediately hands over Blake, and Parker sticks him on her other boob like she’s been doing it forever.

“Seriously, Parker. Do your boobs ever get a rest at all?” I eye them suspiciously.

Her nipples have to be hurting. Hell, I haven’t tried it yet, and even putting on a bra in the morning has me almost writhing in pain.

“They’ve got a bunch of numbing stuff you can get now,” Parker says with a laugh. “When Nox was born, I didn’t have any of that. They toughen up, if you choose to boob feed.”

“I feel like there’s a lot of pressure to do it,” Chloe admits. “I didn’t really want to do it, and then my mom and Ian’s mom and everyone are kind of pushing me to it.”

“Fu— Forget that,” I amend, thinking better of dropping an F-bomb in front of a newborn. “I don’t care what they say about all that crap. Fed is best. It doesn’t matter if it’s from a boob, a bottle, or a mix of both. As long as your baby is fed and healthy, that’s all that matters.”

“Right,” Parker agrees, but her fierce nod is undercut by the wince and gasp she lets out as her baby makes a Hoover vacuum impression.

“So.” Emma turns her head toward the back porch, where we can see the men standing around the barbecue. “Who’s gonna go out there and demand that they get a move on with the food? I really am hungry. And I can’t just hop on a boob.”

“I think I’ve got some snacks in the pantry,” Parker offers helpfully. “Nox doesn’t like sugar in his cookies, so I bought some Keto ones that he really likes. Do you think that’ll work?”

Emma nods reluctantly. “Yeah, I guess.” She heaves herself up. “Where in the pantry?”

“I got it,” I offer to Parker, who moves to get up and hand Blake off to Chloe, who takes him willingly for a second while everyone moves. Then he’s back in his mother’s arms. It’s seriously like a little game of baby hot potato. “I remember from the night the boys were born. Nox showed me where all the good stuff was kept.”

After getting Emma the cookies she needs to stay sane until dinner is done, I sit down at the bar with her.

“Thanks,” she mutters. “I know they just started cooking, but I get really hangry, and it’s all the baby’s fault.”

“Trust me.” I stare at her. “I understand. Did you know that Taco Bell apparently makes a Mexican pizza that’s like a taco but laid out like a pizza? Yeah, I’ve made Logan get three a day for me for the past week. It’s bad. I can’t wait to be done with the pregnancy so my weird cravings go away.”

Emma laughs, her mouth full of cookie. “I can’t believe all it took to get you on Team Tacos was pregnancy. We’re gonna have to get Logan to knock you up again so that we win. I’ve been having the opposite effect. You know I love Dom’s mom’s tacos. Alta makes the absolute best food I’ve ever had in my entire life. But all I want to eat are pickles and chicken. Together. It’s so stupid.”

“Blame it on the penis,” I tell her sagely. “I mean, that seems like the only thing we can really do at this point.”

“So much penis,” Emma agrees. “I don’t know what I’d do without it, either.”

“We’d be horny and angry a lot. Seems like the logical explanation of what will happen.”

She stares longingly out the sliding glass door, but she isn’t looking at her husband. Instead, she has her eyes locked on the closed lid of the barbecue. “Do you think anything is ready yet?”

I hear her stomach growl and realize that the cookies really haven’t done anything.

“You want me to go ask?” I offer.

Emma blinks, not moving her eyes away from the door. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, Poppy,” Parker says from the living room.

Leaving Emma to her staring contest with the door, I follow the sound of a baby sucking away and the quiet conversation of the women that I’ve grown impossibly closer to over the last few months.

“What’s up, Boob Machine?” I lean against the edge of the couch, running my finger down Blake’s nose while he continues to eat with his eyes closed.

“Will you please go tell Remy that I’m starving and that his babies make me want grilled chicken with barbecue sauce smothered over the top?” She bats her eyelashes at me, and I laugh.

“You’re so weird.”

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