Page 17 of Pumped

It’s Everest who hasn’t managed to keep his shit together. He’s been a nuisance every step of the way, complaining and objecting to every decision I make. But when I threaten to make him do the work, he blanches like a fucking coward and claims he’s too distraught.

Fuck him. Man-child.

He couldn’t even get through his eulogy, breaking down into sobs behind the lectern in front of the whole damn church. His buddies from Mars Fitness pulled him into the middle of some group bro-hug afterward.

But now it’s done. Jeremy and Eden are gone. There’s just one more thing to get through, and then I can finally breathe. Finally sleep. Maybe eat. Just one more meeting with the lawyers to sort out Jeremy and Eden’s will, then Ivy will go live with my parents, and then… and then, we figure out how to live the rest of our lives without them.

The six of us—the two sets of parents, me, and Everest—are gathered in the conference room of a prestigious law firm in Midtown. Apparently, the will Jeremy and Eden put together was very detailed. I would expect nothing less from Jeremy. The lawyers insisted we all be here when they go through it.

“What’s the point of a will anyway?” Everest is slumped in his chair, one elbow on the armrest, legs splayed out, swiveling the chair back and forth like he’s a tiger pacing inside a cage. He’s wearing jeans today while the rest of us are respectable enough to dress in business casual. I suppose I should be thankful hedidn’t show up in sweatpants and a backward baseball cap. “Everything’s just going to Ivy, right? Why do you need a will for that?”

“You don’t know that,” Nell jumps in before I can snap at him. “Maybe there are some things they wanted to leave to one of us. Or maybe to a charity. Or they have specific instructions for how they want Ivy to be raised.”

Everest huffs and drops his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “Do you know how long this is going to take? I have stuff to do this afternoon.”

“Apologies for the delay.” A tall woman in a crisp beige pantsuit struts into the conference room. Her sharp eyes land on Everest. “I’ll endeavor to keep this short so you can move on with your day.”

I stifle a groan and rub my fingers over my brow in an attempt to hide my second-hand embarrassment. Can’t take the guy fucking anywhere. At least he isn’tsooblivious that he misses the lawyer’s retort. Quietly, he adjusts his posture, sitting up straight and pulling his chair toward the conference table.

“I’m Harriet Dawson and I helped Eden and Jeremy put their will together. I’m terribly sorry for your loss.” She flips open a file folder. “Their will was straightforward and structured around their primary concern—Ivy. And even in that respect, they opted for an elegant solution. Custody of Ivy will be jointly shared by her godparents, Owen Lambert and Everest Wheeler. Together, they will also inherit ownership of the house in Park Slope and the family car. All other liquid assets will be transferred into a trust for Ivy, again to be managed by Mr. Lambert and Mr. Wheeler.”

The conference room is silent as Ms. Dawson’s words sink in. For several long moments, I’m convinced I misheard her. Did she really say that Jeremy and Eden wanted me and Everest toraise Ivy? There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to begin.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” I say, leaning forward in my chair. “We’ve already discussed this and my parents have agreed to raise Ivy in their home in Westchester.”

If Ms. Dawson is surprised by that pronouncement, she doesn’t show it. “I’m afraid that’s not in line with Eden and Jeremy’s wishes.”

The strange wording of her sentence catches my attention and I narrow my eyes. “It’s not in line, but it’s also not prohibited, is it? Exactly how binding is this will of theirs.”

Ms. Dawson folds her hands on top of the papers in the file folder and levels her gaze at me. “It’s binding.”

“Which means what exactly?” I push back.

“It means that your brother and sister-in-law want you and Mr. Wheeler here to raise their daughter. Legally, you have custody. If you wish to transfer custody of Ivy to someone else, the courts will first need to rule that you are incompetent as parents. She will then be given into the care of the Office of Children and Family Services. She will stay in their care until the grandparents have been screened and approved as foster parents. The entire process can take months.”

My jaw goes a little slack as Ms. Dawson lays out the harsh reality of our situation. I quickly snap it closed. If it was merely a matter of paperwork, that wouldn’t be an issue. But handing Ivy over to the foster care system? For months? That is entirely unacceptable. There has to be another way around the bureaucracy.

“We’ll raise her.” Everest is half out of his seat, eyes shining with more determination than I’ve ever seen from him. “If that’s what Eden and Jeremy wanted, then that’s what we’ll do.”

I almost burst out laughing. Everest, of all the people in this room—Ms. Dawson, the lawyer included—wants to raiseIvy? This man-child who can barely dress himself wants to be responsible for another human being? The idea is ludicrous. It’s even more laughable that he thinks the two of us can raise her together.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say dismissively, not bothering to spare him a glance. “Me and you? We can hardly stand being in the same room together.”

Everest glares at me. “Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

My head snaps around and I pin him with a scowl. “What do you mean ‘whose fault’? It’s yours, obviously!”

“Me? You’re the one with the stick up his ass!” Everest shoots to his feet and leans over the table at me.

Nell, sitting next to Everest, grabs his arm and pulls him back into his seat. “Everest, now is not the time nor the place.”

“What? He started it!”

I snort. “And you think you’re ready to raise Ivy? Please. You’re the last person in either family who should be trusted with a child. You’re practically one yourself.”

Everest slams both hands on the table, ready to leap across the table if it wasn’t for Nell’s hand gripping his shoulder. His face is beet red. His eyes look like they’re going to bulge out of his head. If he could kill me with a look, I’m sure I would already be dead and buried.

“Fuck you, you arrogant prick,” he grinds out between his teeth.

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