Page 224 of G.O.D.S Omnibus

“Okay, I’m going to get dressed before this conversation gets any weirder.”

I leave the main room and head back to my bedroom; I left my clothes in the bathroom, but I find them laid out on my bed. My outfit choice of the day is a long, stretchy white skirt that isn’t as long once it’s pulled over my bump—reaching just above my knees—with a cute mint-green singlet that ties up at the front. I pair it with white sneakers since we will be walking around for a few hours.

Once I’m dressed and my makeup is done, Brennan walks into my room, dressed more casually than I have seen him in a long time. He looks good in the dark-blue denim jeans and a black polo shirt. I give him a once over, and he smirks at me.

“Don’t even think about it. There is no time—we need to go. Mum is already on me about making it on time to stop for food first.”

“If I eat you, does it count as food?” I waggle my brows at him.

He chuckles at my persistence as I stalk towards him, wrapping my arms around his neck the second he is close enough.

“As much as I like the idea, the thought of my mum coming in here and forcing us to leave is a buzz kill. Don’t be fooled by her sweet face—that woman is serious about time management and lists.”

“Brennan, where are you?” Annabella calls, and Brennan looks down with an amused smirk that says,I told you so. “Oh, there you are. Let’s go, I have wrangled the others, and they are outside waiting for us. It needs to be now before your brother starts getting lippy with me again. I swear that boy has aged me. Can you see the wrinkles?” she asks, pointing to her forehead, which barely has any visible lines.

“You don’t look a day over thirty, Mum. That plastic surgeon of yours is worth the money.”

Annabella just stares at Brennan. He pulls back from me and takes my hand as I try to hide my smile. Annabella is a timeless beauty; age just makes her even better looking.

We don’t make her wait any longer, for Boston’s sake as much as hers. Brennan drives with me, his mother, Grandma Betty, and Petra. Everyone else takes their own cars. Annabella took the front seat and directs Brennan where to go. As we pull into the parking area, my mouth hangs open—this entire place is a baby department store.

“Okay,” Annabella says in a business-like tone once we have all gathered in front of the store, “I have made sure the store is open just for us. Here is a list of items we need just in case you want some direction. Make sure you consult Jolie on your purchases. I have put your name on the section you need to focus on. Jolie, you can go from section to section and decide. Any colour preferences?”

“Umm . . .” I shrug. “Black.”

She screws up her nose. “You have been living with those boys for too long already.”

“I would like a white rug and maybe white curtains,” I add.

“Mrs Myer,” Laughn says, throwing his arm over her shoulder and moving her away from us. “I know how important these babies are, and how unconventional our house is compared to how beautiful yours is...”

He continues to lead her into the store. “Are you okay?” Boston asks, coming up beside me, and I nod.

“Overwhelmed. I hadn’t even thought about most of this stuff. Like what the fuck are nipple shields, and why do I need my nipples to go into battle?”

Boston snorts. “I have no idea either, but I would pay to see that. Honestly, though, I would have thought you’d get them from a sex store, not a baby store.”

“Nipple shields are in case the babies can’t latch on properly,” Kai says. “If either of you read any of the new book I left for you, I’m sure all of this would make sense.”

“Kai, with what time would you like me to do that? I don’t have a super brain.”

“No, but he does, so he has no excuses. I thought you liked to be prepared and ahead of the rest of us,” Kai says, cocking his head at Boston before he calls out to Annabella and runs off.

“So what section do you have?” I ask Boston when we enter the store.

He looks at the piece of paper his mum gave him. “Change tables.”

We look at the signs overhead and find our way to the change tables—a whole section of them. I for sure thought we would have the choice between only a handful. Instead, there have to be at least a hundred different types.

“What the fuck sort of shit is this?” Boston says. “Is it just me, or do all of these look the same?”

“It’s not just you,” I whisper as we walk over to the black range. Boston rocks a few and declares them unsafe.

“Oh!” I say. “I really like this one. With the drawers and the gold handles.”

“What do we do when we decide what we like? She didn’t tell us that,” says Boston. “MUM!”

“For crying out loud, son, you don’t need to yell across the store. I was right here.”

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