Page 51 of His Relentless Angel

Carlos and Isaiah join us with the rest of the food, alongside Troy and Khady’s two teenage sons, Isaac and Anthony, though Troy and Khady themselves are conspicuously absent. Ava is the last to arrive, skipping out of the house in her lemon-yellow sundress, the white and yellow bobbles in her hair clinking together. She squeezes herself between Isaiah and me before we take our seats to hug her uncle around his waist, bouncing on her toes excitedly.

He laughs and bends to give her a high five. “Hola, princesa. I missed you.”

Ava squeezes her arms tight around his neck, and he pretends he can’t breathe, making her giggle.

“I like your shiny ring, Ms. Bailey,” she says brightly when I bend to hug her after she releases her uncle.

“Ring? What kind of ring?” Ms. Nicole asks, hopping out of her seat, abruptly ending her tutted conversation with Mr. Owens about their HOA.

“Thanks, kid,” Isaiah mutters to Ava before slipping his arm around my waist.

“Let me see,” Ms. Nicole says, automatically going for my left hand, holding it up for closer inspection while I hold my breath. Positive thoughts only, positive thoughts—

“Breathe, baby,” Isaiah says, kissing my temple.

A slow smile spreads from ear to ear, and Ms. Nicole yanks both of us into her hold. “Finally! It’s about time my baby boy settled down.”

Relief floods my body, though I still wouldn’t be able to draw a breath if I wanted to, with her hugging us so tightly, squishing us together. When she releases us, tears in her eyes, she motions for us to take the seats across from her and Mr. Owens, immediately firing off questions about the wedding. Her husband chuckles and holds her hand on top of the table.

“So you’re ok with this…Bailey and me?” Isaiah asks, eyeing her quizzically from my right side.

“I could do without the age difference.” Ms. Nicole raises her brow at Carlos, seated on Isaiah’s right, then at Brianna, sitting at the head of the table, both of whom don’t look the least bit bothered. “But like I said, it’s about time you settled down. Bailey’s been in love with you for almost half her life, so I don’t doubt she will treat you right now that you’ve given in.”

It’s so easy for this family to make my face go flaming red, and Brianna laughs when she gets a good look at me.

“Back to the wedding,” Ms. Nicole says, urging us to eat, though she hardly touches her food as she starts talking about researching the different venues we can tour between our hometown and Houston when we tell her we want to make it convenient for both families to attend.

I’ve just picked up a skewer of shrimp when Ms. Nicole says, “How soon after the wedding were you thinking of starting a family?”

Of course, that’s when I swallow my first bite, and the baby decides they do not like seafood after all. I clap a hand over my mouth, and thinking I won’t make it to the bathroom in time, I run around to the side of the house with Isaiah on my heels where no one will see me throw up in the rose bushes.

I sniffle when I stand. “It’s not fair. Shayla never had morning sickness.”

Isaiah kisses the top of my head, rubbing my belly sympathetically, waiting a moment longer in case I’m going to vomit again. With my stomach settled, I’m absolutely mortified to return to the table with everyone, including the kids, staring at me with their jaws hanging open with shock.

“Well. Guess that answers my question,” Ms. Nicole says, eyeing my waistline.

Mr. Owens purses his lips at Isaiah, unhappy about our timeline, but turns kind eyes on me. “The kids call us ‘Nana’ and ‘Gramps’.” With a wink, he says, “And spouses call us ‘Nicole’ and ‘Aaron’.”

* * *

“That went well, for the most part,” Isaiah says on the drive to a nearby hotel. The kids are staying with their grandparents, giving Troy and Brianna a night away with their spouses. Although his parents had room for us, Isaiah booked a hotel ahead of time in case his family didn’t take our news well, and truthfully, I’m glad. I need to decompress after such an emotional afternoon.

“Don’t think I didn’t see the text your brother sent asking if you needed to be rescued or deprogrammed.” Isaiah quickly deleted it, but not before I saw the notification light up his phone.

He taps the steering wheel. “That’s my fault. He’s the one I, uh, I…”

I wait silently, my stomach churning.

“I…complained to…most often back then,” he finishes, trying to play it off with a chuckle.

Fine, if that’s how he wants to play it, then I’m game. “Complained about what?” I ask innocently.

He gives me a nervous look before turning his attention back to the road, steering his car to a valet stand in front of the hotel. “You know…your schemes. That time you—” He presses his lips together.

“Which scheme?”

Isaiah hurries out of the car without answering when the young male valet in a dark blue uniform jogs around the front to open his door. Another valet opens my door, and Isaiah helps me out of my seat without looking me in the eye. He carries our bags in one hand, holding my hand in the other. I know he’s sweating as I stare at him during the silent elevator ride up to the fifth floor and down the navy and gold patterned carpet to the fourth door on the right.

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