Page 49 of Embers in the Outfield

“What were you asking me earlier?” I bring my focus over to Willa again, not quite feeling awful that I’m using this situation to make the girl I’m fucking jealous.

“Oh, I asked how long you’ve been a firefighter for?”

I’m interrupted before I can answer.

“Hasn’t it been about six years, Riv?” Kennedy pipes in, bringing herself closer to my conversation with Willa, yet pulling Brad by the hand for him to follow.

“Yep, that’s right. Weird that you remember. Obsessed much?” I take a sip of my beer, narrowing my gaze at her. What’s her angle?

“Yeah, I remember because the day you graduated from the academy, you had that questionable rash you kept telling us about. You know, in your nether regions.” For added effect, she moves her hand around her bottom half as if her words weren’t descriptive enough.

Of course, the moment she says that, Brad and Willa nearly projectile spit their drinks out. Fucking Kennedy.

Before I can even throw something back, Willa must feel the discomfort between Kennedy and me and decides now would be a good time to excuse herself. “I think I’m going to top off this drink.” And she scurries off to the kitchen.

I see Sam in the distance make a face and follow her, and I know this will bite me in the ass later. Oh well, worth it if I can hopefully get Brad to beat it and leave me be with Kennedy.

He seems to sense the tension and excuses himself too; however, he seems to make a promise that he’ll chat with Kennedy later. Over my dead fucking body, pal.

A satisfied smile takes over Kennedy’s face, and as much as I want to give her shit, I can’t help but laugh at what just happened.

“Way to keep it real, Skip,” I say as I take a seat, then tap the spot next to me, hoping she’ll risk sitting near me.

She’s reluctant at first, then decides the hell with it and makes her way over. She keeps a distance, and I’m fighting the desire to pull her on my lap and claim her as mine. Fuck Brad, Willa, and the rest of our audience.

We both open our mouths to say something when a seething Samara comes stomping over. “You fuckers. You couldn’t be nice to one another for one party, my party.”

Right then, Ashton yells, “Our party,” as Sam ignores his protest.

“And for once,” she continues, “you couldn’t just let yourselves explore something with people I think would work for you two? Why are you two like this? It’s so childish!”

Right then, to drive the point home, Kennedy and I point to each other, Kennedy saying, “He did it,” while I exclaim, “She started it!”

“Ugh! Don’t talk to me for the next twenty minutes,” she demands, and Ashton gives me a look like I should have done better for his sake.

“She’s still pretty testy. I guess it wasn’t a first-trimester thing,” I say when I feel an ice cube hit my arm. “What the hell, Sam!”

“Don’t fuck with me, River!” she whisper-yells at me, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes.

Ashton once again throws me a look like,What the fuck?, and I just shrug my shoulders.

Once the two of them are off to the other end of the backyard and no one is too close to hear my conversation, I turn to Kennedy.

“I hope you know you’re getting spanked later after you let that guy put his hands on you.” I point the bottleneck of my beer in her direction.

“Oh, look who’s talking. She was groping your arm when I got here. Then you grab her hand and move her along the backyard.Who got handsy first, Riv?” Kennedy has this way of sounding calm, but she has this uncanny ability to shut you up quite quickly. She’s not wrong; I one hundred percent pushed to see her react.

The afternoon turns into evening, and the anticipation is now full throttle to find out this baby’s gender. We’ve played guessing games, recorded a video for the baby with a message, and we even wear pins with a color to depict our prediction.

I went with girl, and Kennedy went with boy. We both just want a healthy baby like everyone else at this party; however, deep down, I’m a little scared if Sam doesn’t get her girl. She’s been pointing to her belly and calling the baby a girl from the moment she told us, so I’m a little worried her anger issues will only grow if she doesn’t get her way.

They bring a large balloon out and hold it above their heads. They’re about to pop it when her work colleague walks out with an identical balloon.

What the hell is happening?

I look over to Kennedy, and she has tears coming down her face. She moves closer to me and whispers in my ear, “They’re twins!”

“Surprise everyone! We’re not just having one baby, but we’re having two!” Samara announces, and her smile is goddam infectious.

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