Sierra, being Sierra, swallowed past it. “Crazy, right? These twins better be Lili-sized, otherwise I’m effed.” She picked Layla back up, pretending not to have just dropped the pseudo f-bomb twice, and switched on her Mommy voice. “Right, sweetie pie? Yes, Mommy will kick Uncle Chase’s booty. Okay, we both need to work on our potty mouths.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Tal squeezed Lil’s hand. “And Sier, what you and Dodd are doing for Chase and Lili so they can have a family is beautiful. It’s the most selfless thing a woman could do for someone she loves. You are amazing. Wow, I can’t believe this, this is so exciting!” The women hugged again and I remembered the afternoon Chase and I last kicked the shit out of each other, him swinging at the fear of Lili wanting to go the surrogate route, while I swung at the pain of discovering Tal had a son I believed was his. Terrified and powerless, we dealt the only way we knew how, unsure which side of the coin would be facing up in the end. Go figure, about time we both landed heads.
Another generation of Colton twins. As if that thought weren’t sobering enough, an unfamiliar feeling tugged at my chest and I imagined giving my woman the only thing she was missing. For a nanosecond I wondered if she would even consider adopting a little girl. Before my mental crazy train skipped another rail, I blinked back to sanity and moved to hug Lil.
“So two, huh? Means double of all the shit.” I wiped her wet face. “So happy for you, I knew you two would figure it out. And Sier, wow girl, I don’t know what to say. You just elevated yourself to gorgeous in my book. Thank you for doing this for them.” Tal smiled and squeezed my hand, telling me she agreed with Sier’s well-earned nickname. I was confident Lil wouldn’t mind sharing the title.
“Well, over my dead body was a random stranger carrying these beans. We were in the middle of a laser touch up session when Lil casually dropped the surrogate bomb. Granted, you can’t always control your thought process when your cooch is getting electrocuted. But, I was tempted to rip off my goggles and zap her in the forehead with the damn torture tool. Seriously, she deserved to lose her eyebrows for starting that interview process. Can you imagine, she was going to trust a stranger with Layla’s cousin?”
And that was Sierra spewing shit causing you to decipher through her run-on-rant what was TMI and what was important. This time I decided to focus on what she didn’t say. Lil never even asked, didn’t have to. Because it’s what you do for family. Sierra and I had more in common than I thought.
“You too?” Sierra waved at Talia, who joined the tear fest. “Really? I’m the one who’s hormonal and you two are bawling like babies. Lil’s been crying since I peed on the stick. Tack must think we’re all nuts.”
The room shot toward Tack.
“Hey, no, no.” He held up his hands in surrender, laughing a little. “Good stuff, this news is awesome. Just trying to figure out who to congratulate. Seems like it’s in order for all.”
Like I said, Tack was smooth. I looked at my woman who was grinning through her tears at her son and had to be thinking the same thing. Forget good, tonight was turning out to be fan-fucking-tastic.
Lil elbowed Tack’s arm. “You know what that makes you, right?” He raised his brow, his expression screaming, No, but I know you’re gonna tell me. “An uncle!” Talk about insta-family. The kid had no idea what was coming down the pike.
Tal raised her glass. “To healthy babies and a non-eventful pregnancy for Sierra!”
“Wait. Wait. I need my seltzer. Let me grab my wine glass.”
Before Sierra had a chance, Lil was up and out. “Sit, sit. I’ve got it.”
The doorbell chimed three times in a row, followed by a knock heavy enough to hear out on the terrace. Asshole forgot his keys, but was just in time.
Sierra and Tal started babbling about random pregnancy stuff. I heard “itching” and “cream” and I exited the conversation pronto, grabbing another beer and sneaking Layla an ice pop, just because. “Our little secret.” Her high pitch squeal totally sold me out. Dodd chuckled and tipped his bottle at my ballsy disregard for his wife’s crazy rules—before dinner, after dinner whatever. He didn’t care; he resumed his conversation with Tack.
I couldn’t even begin to fathom what went down in his head during this whole process. That was for another night and another bottle of Patron. I know what I said, but come on, his wife was carrying another man’s children, plural. If hangovers were ranked in order of worthiness, this was up there as deserving.
Out of nowhere, Layla’s excitement was interrupted by an ear piercing what-the-fuck shrill.
The kind of gut-wrenching sound that caused my heart to hit my throat.
It was Lili.
The glass bottle slipped from my hand and cracked against the slate while I scanned the landing. The sheer panic radiating from Sier and Tal pointed toward the doors. They had a better view inside the house from where they were standing. My legs were already in a full sprint. At the far end of the entryway, Lili was cowering against the wall with both arms raised in the air. The front door was wide open. The scene played in slow motion, yet it was moving so fast I couldn’t stop it. Tack and Tal were frozen behind to my left, while Dodd forced Sierra and Layla down behind the couch. Without thinking, I pinned myself in front of Lili.
“Get down.”
“What the fuck?”
“Who the fuck is this?”
Adrenaline took over, my mind racing the jackhammering against my chest. My stomach sank and I bit back the urge to puke my guts up. Confusion rattled me. Was this guy really pointing a gun at us? At Lil. No way. Not on my watch. This was a warped joke. We’d all come too far. We had too many awesome things on the horizon. This asshole wasn’t gonna ruin that.
“Whoa, man.” I held up my hands, barely recognizing my voice. It was the voice of reason—calm, rational … both of which I was not. “Put the gun down. Talk to me, man. Let’s work this out.”
Large drops of sweat dripped into his bloodshot glazed eyes. His dark hair was plastered to his skull, drenched with grease, and his clothes were filthy. Digging through dumpsters and sleeping in alleys kind of filth. Torn and disheveled, he was a fucking mess. Plain and simple.
Of all the townhouses in all of Boston, this degenerate picked here and now. First thought was drug addict. Yet something didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel random.
“You want money? I’ve got money, what do you need?” He had to have a price.
Lili clung to my back, her incoherent mumbles getting louder in between small outbursts every time he waved the gun in our direction. Tal and Tack were able to retreat a few feet deeper into the living room, but the open layout of the space didn’t furnish many hiding spots.
“I knew I’d find you. Can’t hide, can’t hide. Lili Porter, all Lili Porter’s fault.” The lunatic’s voice was hoarse and spewing disjointed nonsense. He swiped at his beading perspiration with his pistol-waving arm. “You ruined me. You and your fucking big mouth. Think you’re better than everyone, don’t you? Better than Wrangel, better than me. No better … no better. You’re NO better!” His free hand smacked himself across the face twice.
This wasn’t an addict in search of his next hit; it was a psychotic break unfolding before us. And it wasn’t random.
“Lil, who is this?” I hissed over my shoulder, pushing backward, trying to distance us from point blank range. But there was nowhere to go—Lil was already against the wall.
“It’s him ... Rrroyy Wayne. Oh my god, he got out, he got out,” she stuttered, completely panicked.
“Can’t hide behind your man. Come out, bitch. Your speech didn’t work this time, did it? Did it!”