Page 118 of Tattletale

“Imagine that.” I laugh a little awkwardly. Cricket’s suddenly studying the clouds, trying to keep a straight face.

Mom surprises me when she closes the gap between us with a small step and wraps her arms around me. It’s brief, but it’s everything. “I’m not much of a hugger,” she mumbles as she pulls away. “But congratulations.” She turns and holds out her arms to Cricket. My wife scrambles to her feet so fast, she nearly collapses into my mom’s hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Christine.”

I relish the moment of Cricket embracing my mom because I know it’s fleeting. A blip in time. And right on cue, when my mother pulls away, there’s suddenly tears in her eyes. She grabs her temples. “Cora, I’d like to go back to my room now. I don’t want to be rude to your guests, but I’d like to go.Right now.I want to go right now.”

“Okay, okay.” Cora, the nurse, soothes her. “Let’s go. You did great. I just wanted you to see the pretty dress. How about a little lunch and then we relax for the afternoon?”

Mom nods, tears streaming down her cheeks. She holds up her hands to me and Cricket, then retreats back down the path. It’s such a short-changed goodbye.

Cora lingers for a moment. “I’m sorry, but it’s just the first time. Usually, the more you come, the longer you get before she needs to rest.”

I nod solemnly, unable to hide the disappointment in my face.

Cricket speaks for me when she realizes I’m too upset. “We’ll be back very soon.” Her hand goes back to rubbing big circles against my back.

Once Cora’s out of earshot, Cricket turns to me and wraps my arms around her waist. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m okay. I expected that.”

“It was such a long drive, for such a short visit. That was barely five minutes.”

The sun is shining on Cricket’s face, making her rosy cheeks glow. “I know. I’m sorry. I won’t make you come again.”

“Make me?” Cricket asks. She reaches up to tap my nose. “Try and stop me. You’re my husband. We share a family. That’s my mom now, too. I’ll be here every single time, Lance.”

I pull a loose strand of hair away from her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. “My girl,” I whisper.

“Yes,” she answers just as softly. “Yours.”

In our usual Friday night tradition, the gang is all at Martinis. But tonight, we’re celebrating. After getting back from visiting Mom, Cricket and I changed, snuck in a quickie, and then met our family for drinks.

“So, be honest,” Callen says with a slick smirk, “have you two horndogs christened headquarters yet? I just want to know where to bleach.”

I glare at him. “Start with your desk.”

“Not funny,” Callen mutters.

“Wrong. That was very funny,” Linc adds with a wide grin.

“Okay, next round is on me”—I point to the empty glasses on the table—“is everyone having the same?”

Linc clasps me on the shoulder. “It’s your wedding day, man.” He nods at Callen. “We’ll grab it.”

I squint one eye at Linc as I rise from the end of the circular booth. “Don’t get all soft and sappy on me, man. It’s not a good look on you.”

Eden pokes her tongue out at me. She proceeds to rub Linc’s thigh under the table. “I think sweet is a very good look on you.”

He kisses her cheek, as I excuse myself. I need to check on Cricket anyway. Even three and a half months after her injuries, I’m still worried she’s going to black out in a bathroom stall. I’ll never stop worrying. I don’t know if it’s because of the ordeal we went through, or because of love. But this is my new normal. Constant worry.

Before heading back to knock on the ladies’ room, I pause by the bar, looking for Ollie. Our favorite bartender’s belly is round and swollen now. Her apron barely fastens over her baby bump. She’s well into her third trimester. I feel terrible because the bar is actually packed tonight, and there’s no sign of it stopping. Ollie makes eye contact with me and hurries to the end of the bar as fast as she can.

“Another round for everyone?” she asks, panting.

“I hate to bother you.”

She waves me off. “Nonsense, I’m fine.”

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