Page 47 of Uxpectedly Ever After

"Trust me, I've tried talking to her about it," Banks says, and I elbow him hard in the side. He grunts but grins at my brother. "She's stubborn."

"And you both have traumatic brain injuries if you think my reproductive choices automatically lead to a wedding," I say loud enough for them both to hear, but of course they act like I’m not even here.

Honestly? I’m feeling a little stabby, not gonna lie.

"She gets that from our Mom," Kasen sighs. But then his eyes light up. "Jesus. I'm going to be an uncle." His whole face transforms with the first genuine smile since we sat down. "Thatkid’s gonna have the most badass uncle. I'll teach him all sorts of shit and then give him back."

"She's going to be a girl," Banks says confidently. "And you’re not teaching her shit unless you run it by me first.”

I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't get stuck looking at my brain. "So glad you two have my child's entire future mapped out already."

"It's a he," Kasen argues, continuing to ignore me. "James’ make sons. It's genetic."

"Actually, the father determines the sex of the baby," I point out, "because sperm carry either an X or Y chromosome, while eggs only carry X chromosomes. So if anyone's going to make bold proclamations about our baby's gender, it should be me. Or Banks.”

They both stare at me.

"What? I've been reading."

Kasen shakes his head and signals one of his servers. "I need a beer for this conversation."

"Make it two," I add, then smile sweetly at their shocked expressions. "Relax, it's for you," I tell Banks. "You're going to need it when I explain exactly how I feel about you planning my future without me.”

Telling the rest of our inner circle goes significantly better than telling Kasen.

Navy meets us at Ember after her shift with a knowing smirk. “So you finally told big brother about the bun in the oven?” she asks, giving Banks an appraising look. “And you're still breathing. That’s unexpected.”

“He's tougher than he looks,” I reply, which makes Banks raise an eyebrow.

She pulls me into a tight hug. “I'm so glad you two are finally going public with this. Now I can officially start planning the baby shower!” She bounces on her toes. “I'm thinking a midnight garden theme with tiny fairy lights and fireflies. And don't worry, I'll make sure everything is put into our shared calendar with your planning system so you don't stress.”

She's already talking about godmother duties and food choices for the shower before I’ve even had a chance to sit down.

My boss’s reaction is more reserved but no less supportive. "I had a feeling," Theo says, looking between us with a smirk. "The way Banks has been hanging around the bar like your bodyguard every night made me suspect something was up."

Banks shrugs, completely unapologetic and owning his hovering. He guides me to the barstool he's insisting I sit on instead of standing and waits for me to sit before moving behind me so I can use his chest to lean back against.

Theo smirks at me and I bite back a laugh. Banks might’ve backed off a tiny bit, but he’s still over the top with everything related to me or the baby.

The fire station crew is the most entertaining reaction by far. They erupt into a combination of merciless teasing and overprotectiveness for a baby they haven't even met, and it makes me cry a little. Banks gets endless shit, but he loves every second of it.

"Priestly, settling down?" Captain Morgan's bushy eyebrows lift up so his forehead wrinkles. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Pay up," Brenna says, holding out her hand to Martinez and Vetter who bitch and groan before they hand their cash over.

"You were betting on us?” I ask, equal parts horrified and amused.

"Babe, we've had a betting pool since Banks had a panic attack when he didn’t know where you were during that gas leak," Brenna explains with a knowing smirk. "He came back to the station going on and on about how you were basically superwoman after, and Martinez said he'd never seen anyone crush so hard over emergency management skills. Only question was how long it'd take you two to get your shit together and figure it out."

And through every minute of telling our friends and family, Banks is right there beside me, his arm thrown over my shoulders so he can pull me into him. He’s always like this now, touching me all the time. The man doesn’t know the meaning of keeping his hands to himself. He’s steadfast. His presence in my life is unwavering.

What isn't unwavering, however, is my traitor of a body, which seems determined to remind me daily that this pregnancy isn’t going to be the glowing, Instagram-worthy experience some women claim it is.

It happens on a particularly busy Friday night at Ember, three weeks after telling everyone our news. The nausea has been relentless all day, and the meds Dr. Walker gave me aren’t doing shit. Well, it’s really 24/7 sickness with very few breaks, but I've been forcing myself to function through sheer willpower and an ungodly amount of ginger candies, mint, and a set of Sea Bands that I swear do nothing but I’m too afraid to take off because what if it really is worse without them?

Navy keeps shooting me worried looks that I hate as I mix drinks with shaking hands, stopping every few minutes to take deep breaths and steady myself when the room starts spinning.

Yeah, not being able to hold anything down for days is starting to catch up with me.

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