Page 122 of One Last Shot

“What’s wrong?” Sierra asks. “You look like you’re going to cry.”

Oh God, my eyes are all watery as I think about how happy I am for my friends. And for myself. I got the happily ever after I didn’t think I wanted, and it’s better than I ever expected.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking about how lucky we all are. And how happy I am for you and Jackson that you’re both going to be mamas soon.”

“And that got you all teary eyed?” Sierra’s skepticism is clear in her voice. I don’t get sentimental like this. These fucking pregnancy hormones are messing with me.Rein it in, Petra, I tell myself.

“Probably just PMS,” I say.

In the driver’s seat, Sasha snorts, then says, “Sorry. Hormones really are the one thing that makes my wife emotional.”

“Well, that got awkward fast,” Beau says. Then we drive in silence for the remaining few minutes until we arrive at the restaurant.

Jackson and Lauren are already at our outdoor table with their men when we arrive. The seating is built into the corner of the deck, with two sides of bench seating covered in cushions and pillows leaning up against the solid deck wall. This part of the restaurant is built out over the rocky coastline of the Caribbean Sea, with waves crashing directly beneath us on this beautifully warm night. A palm tree growing on the shore overhangs our table, and string lights are strung between its tall trunk and the roofline of the restaurant. It’s a magical setting, and I think again about how great Nate is at finding places like this. He has a knack for ambiance, whether it’s finding the right property to add to his vacation rental empire, or finding the right restaurant for dinner on his wife’s babymoon.

Jackson and Nate are sitting on the benches, and Lauren and her man are sitting in two of the four chairs. “Do you want the bench seating or the chairs?” I ask Sierra.

“I’ll take the bench,” she says. “I can probably get more comfortable there.” Beau helps her get situated and then takes his seat next to her on one edge of the table while Sasha and I take the seats along the other open edge.

The waitress arrives to take our drink orders and I ask for a club soda with lime. “Hold up,” Jackson says. “You can drink all of us under the table and you’re not drinking? At least let me drink vicariously through you. I can’t tell you what I’d give for a margarita right now.”

“We make a really great virgin pineapple margarita,” the waitress says, eyeing Jackson’s maternity dress. “You won’t even miss the tequila.”

“The hell I won’t,” Jackson says, but she’s laughing. “All right, fine, I’ll take a virgin pineapple margarita.”

“Me too,” Sierra says.

When she’s done taking drink orders, the waitress heads off with a promise of returning with chips, salsa, and guacamole. Meanwhile, I try to pretend like I don’t notice Jackson staring at me like she’s trying to figure out if telepathy is real and if she can use it on me.

The guys are asking Aleksandr about the coming season and I laugh, reminding them that the current seasonjustended a couple weeks ago. I can’t help but think about how different this year is going to be. At least I know Stella will be the best big sister ever. That girl is my mini-me, but her heart is bigger and more open, and she wants a little sister more than anything. We’re going to have so much fun bringing another little girl into our family.

On my left, Lauren leans toward me. “Are you really not going to tell them?” she whispers and I close my eyes, focusing on keeping my face as serene and unaffected as possible. “I’m pretty sure they already know,” she continues. “And they’re going to be mad if it comes out before you tell them.”

I lean my head even closer to hers. “How did you know?”

“Besides that adorable belly you are trying to hide under your kimonos and loose-fitting dresses? You also haven’t been drinking even though you are pretending to.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Sierra asks from my other side. “You better not be telling Lauren you’re pregnant and not telling us too.”

Her words are a record screech that brings all conversation and movement to a halt. Mouths hang open, water glasses are suspended in hands midair. I don’t think the entire table could go silent more quickly if I said I was dying.

“Um, what?” I ask, my voice small and high-pitched. I feel Aleksandr bring his hand up to the small of my back, rubbing a circle there.

“Iknewit!” Beau says, his face triumphant. “PMS my ass.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means,” Nate says, glancing at his brother-in-law.

When it’s clear I’ve lost the ability to speak, Sasha says, “This isn’t exactly how we wanted to tell you all.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “We weren’t trying to lie about it, but this is your babymoon,” I say, looking from Jackson to Sierra, “and I didn’t want to co-opt that with my news.”

No one speaks, we all just look at each other, our eyes roaming around the table making eye contact with every person there. And in those moments, we’re having silent conversations of excitement and apology.

“I can’t believe you’re having a baby,” Sierra finally says, and she sounds breathless. “Like, Ireallycan’t believe it.”

“So eloquent, babe,” Beau teases, then leans over and kisses Sierra’s temple.

“I think this is just a bit of a shock, you know,” Lauren says, “since you were always pretty against having kids.”

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