Swamp Happens: The Complete Swamp Bottom Series

by Cora Kenborn

  What the actual fuck?

  The entire contraption was hooked up to something that looked like a roadside assistance kit. I took a minute to examine the apparatus. There were nobs, dials, and switches on the face of what looked like a black nylon battery pack. I’d seen a lot of things in my day, but whatever the hell Babies R Us had conjured up in aisle four was beyond my realm of expertise. The only thing I knew for sure was that it wasn’t a bong. Although with a few modifications, I’m sure I could figure something out.

  “What are you doing with that breast pump?” Addie hissed. Startled, I jumped at her sudden appearance at my back, and the plastic cones I held went flying. I watched in shock and amazement as a single cone flipped in the air several times before smacking Addie in the face and clattering to the linoleum floor.

  There were a few tense moments of silence before I lost the battle with my composure. I shouldn’t have laughed. I really, really shouldn’t have laughed because the ensuing growl that came from my sister’s throat was downright demonic.

  “Oh my God, you got tagged right between the eyes with an udder sucker!” I wheezed, doubling over and just barely refraining from pointing at her. It was a good thing I didn’t because if my sister’s narrowed eyes were any indication, she was liable to bite it off.

  Addie jutted out a hip and doubled down on the death glare. “It’s a breast pump, Savannah. It’s used to express milk for the nourishment of a child. It is not an udder sucker.”

  I waved a hand in dismissal. “You say tomato, and I say if you sucked a dick, you wouldn’t need a machine to siphon milk from your funbags.”

  My sister’s face went slack, and her mouth hung open in shock.

  “See, you’re getting the hang of it, but it’s too little too late now.” Raising an eyebrow, I dropped my gaze to her belly.

  Her hand rested lightly on her small baby bump as she assessed me. “How is it that we share DNA? Honestly, sometimes I wonder if we took home the wrong baby from the hospital.”

  “If anyone’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, it’s you, dear sister. Remember, Babs is blood.”

  “How could I forget,” she mumbled turning on her heel and power walking down the aisle, her precious pregnancy bible tucked securely under her arm.

  I sidestepped the mess of plastic cones and tubes and followed, not wanting to get lost in the endless aisles of baby paraphernalia. The weeks had flown by, and Addie was just starting her second semester or whatever it was called. It’d been interesting at first, but after the first week of daily updates, I started to tune her out. I didn’t need to know my little niece or nephew was the size of a sunflower seed or that it resembled a seahorse.

  Zep seemed to be taking the whole surprise pregnancy thing in stride. In fact, he was embracing his role as my sister’s baby daddy. On the other hand, Addie was neurotic as ever. I swear I hadn’t seen her without that damn book for more than five minutes since she found out she was pregnant. The way she clung to every statistic and trivia fact couldn’t be healthy. She’d become obsessed, which is how I ended up getting dragged to a Costco sized emporium of tiny human crap.

  Rounding the corner, I found Addie standing in front of a wall of diapers, frantically scribbling on a notepad. “You said you weren’t ready to register for your baby shower yet, so do you want to remind me why we’re here?”

  She sighed in exasperation but didn’t look up. “I’m doing research. Zep and I aren’t exactly rolling in dough, so I’m comparing prices to consumer reports and customer reviews. That way, I’ll know what kind of budget we’re looking at. Besides, I want to get a noodle while we’re here.”

  Did I even want to know?

  “A what now?”

  Please don’t be for your vag.

  Addie snorted and rolled her eyes. “I can see your disgusting brain churning. It’s a special pregnancy pillow, Sav, not a sex toy.”

  Thank fuck.

  I followed her down the next aisle where she showed me more than a dozen specialty pillows designed for pregnant women and their growing bellies. Apparently, growing a human was an uncomfortable process. Rooting through the pile, she finally found the one she wanted and slung the oddly curved pillow slung over her shoulder before charging toward the next item.

  “What else do you have on your list?”

  Addie flipped through the pages of her notebook until she found what she was looking for. “Let’s see, diapers, bottles, and breast pumps are done. The only thing left for this round is nipple cream and diaper disposal.”

  I held up my hand to stop her. I had to have heard her wrong. “What do you mean this round? And what the fuck is nipple cream?”

  “Well, it’s impossible to get through everything in one day. Today is just the tip of the iceberg. You know, the basics and stuff. I’ll come back next week when I’m researching some of the bigger items like car seats, high chairs, cribs, and play yards.” It didn’t go unnoticed that she’d ignored my inquiry about the nipple cream, but I let it slide. If I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to know what the hell a baby plus that milking contraption we’d been looking at would do to a woman’s poor sensitive nipples.

  “Jesus, babies need a lot of shit.”

  My big sister, the one who always had it together, was unraveling in front of me. Her face was paler than normal, and she sported dark bruises under her eyes courtesy of her near constant exhaustion and marathon pukefests. Even her voice had taken on a brittle edge like she was hanging on by the very last shred of sanity she still had.

  Running a hand through her long hair, she sighed and stuffed the notebook into her purse. “Yep, and that shit costs money.”

  “We’ll figure it out, sis. Don’t stress. It can’t be good for the baby.”

  “Nothing is good for the baby.” she huffed, pulling at the ends of her hair. “I can’t have soda, coffee, or sushi. Even the thought of food is nauseating, and the only thing that doesn’t make me want to hug a toilet is a damn salami sandwich, and I can’t eat cured meat.”

  Did that mean bacon too? Kevin will be relieved.

  There was a joke in there somewhere, but I decided to tread lightly. “No cured meat at all, huh?”

  “Well, I can if it’s cooked, but who the hell cooks salami?”

  DANGER! Pregnant bitch mode activated, meltdown imminent.

  Holding my hands out in front of me with my palms up, I attempted to reason with her. “You could try frying it. I’m sure it’s not unheard of, Addie.”

  Her chin dipped down, and her face contorted in such a way that the warning bells in my head turned into screeching sirens. Suddenly, Addie’s eyes got wide, her lips pursed, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

  Shit, she’s gonna blow.

  She spun around, frantically looking for a place to upchuck. We were near the front door, and by the looks of it, there was no way she was making it to the bathrooms at the back of the store.

  “Outside!” I shouted and pointed toward the entrance. Without skipping a beat, Addie bolted for the automatic doors.

  For being pregnant, the bitch was fast.

  I hurried after her, more than a little concerned. Was it normal to projectile vomit every three hours? I thought morning sickness was only supposed to happen in the morning, hence the name. From the state Addie had been over the past few months, I was dead wrong. I heard shouts coming from behind us, but I didn’t pay attention to whatever drama was in progress. If pregnant chicks wanted to throw down over nipple cream, more power to them, I had a sister to worry about.

  In my sister-fueled panic, my shoulder clipped one of the automatic doors on the way out. It hurt like a bitch, but I pressed on, searching the parking lot for Addie as the thick Louisiana summer air blanketed me. Finally, I spotted her a few feet away, bent over a bush.

  “Christ, you know how to make an exit,” I said as I jogged over to her. Okay, I didn’t jog. It was more of a speedy walk. It wasn’t like she was bleeding, so no reason to break a sweat
.

  Addie groaned into the arborvitae as I sidled up to her and reached down to pull her hair away from her face. It was a known fact that sisters were specifically designed to be your automatic best friend and designated hair holder while you ralphed. However, to be fair, said hair holding usually happened after a night of tequila shots and gold sequined banana hammocks.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” a stern voice came from behind us. The tone of someone’s voice could say so many things, and this one said I was going to either have a headache from his stupidity or busted up knuckles from beating his ass by the time we were done.

  I turned my head slowly, still holding onto her hair. The man was dressed in a rent-a-cop uniform and was sweating like a whore in church, his rounded belly pushing the buttons on his shirt to nearly their breaking point.

  Shooting him a narrowed gaze, I slapped a fake smile on my face. “Uh, we’re a little busy here.”

  “You, you…” he panted.

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this guy had better not have a fucking heart attack in front of me. I didn’t have it in me to be the responsible one in the face of two emergencies.

  “You two stay right there,” he finally spat out.

  What the fuck is this guy’s problem?

  “Look, I don’t know who pissed in your Cheerios this morning, but you can run along now. We’re fine.”

  “I’m calling the police.”

  I glanced from the pudgy security guard to my sister who was still dry heaving between two bushes. I couldn’t do anything about her current status as Barf Queen of Louisiana, but I sure as hell could do something about this fucking prick.

  “You’re going to call the cops over a little puke, are you fucking serious?” He opened his mouth to speak, his jowls jiggling with the effort, but I held up a hand, halting his response. “You know what?” I said, squinting to make out his name badge. “You go right ahead and call the cops, Larry. My boyfriend is on the NOPD. I’m sure he’ll love to hear all about the jackass who’s harassing a pregnant lady with morning sickness. Is it a crime to puke your guts out on a public sidewalk? Because, if that’s the case, I should’ve been locked up years ago.”

  Larry’s beady little black eyes narrowed, and he puffed out his chest. The move was meant to be intimidating, but with the way he was still gasping for a decent breath, it didn’t have the intended effect. “It’s not, but shoplifting is.”

  Shoplifting?

  I glanced down at my sister, and sure enough, that damn pillow was still hooked over her shoulder. Damn it. I should really stop trying to play the cop boyfriend card. It didn’t seem to pack the same punch as it did when someone on TV used it.

  Addie straightened, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked like day old shit warmed over. Sniffling, she used her sleeve to swipe at the tears that were clinging to her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t make it to the bathroom,” she croaked, her voice shaky.

  Apparently, looking like death did a lot to garner sympathy because those hard eyes that were trying to set me on fire moments ago softened. “Got four kids of my own, I know how those fits can be. My poor Gracie was sick as a dog with all four.”

  Addie gave him a weak smile. “Thank you for understanding. We’ll go back inside and pay for the pillow.”

  “That sounds like it will solve our problem, sugar.”

  Sugar? He was about to mace me less than a minute ago. How was it that even looking like road kill, my sister could charm the Satan Santa wannabe?

  I moved to follow Addie back into the store, but Larry held up a hand. “You can go on ahead, young lady,” he said to her, but pointed a finger at me. “She stays outside.”

  49

  A New Routine

  Savannah

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  “You got banned from Babies R Us?” Pope asked.

  I shrugged. “It happens.” It wasn’t the first time I’d been banned from an establishment, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

  We were sitting on the couch after dinner, my feet in his lap, downloading each other on the day’s events. It had become somewhat of a ritual for us and involved me coming over and trying not to fuck up dinner. Most nights, we ended up eating take out and avoiding the smell in the kitchen from whatever I’d burnt. At some point, I’d have to either figure out this cooking thing or burn down the house. Usually, we’d end up watching one of the thousand shows we’d DVR’d and then go to bed.

  I never thought I’d be the kind of person who liked a routine, but with Pope, it wasn’t boring. Sure, sometimes it was predictable, but he made me laugh every day, and it didn’t hurt that he brought me to a screaming orgasm almost every night. Pope leveled me out in a way I didn’t know I needed. He humored me most of the time, but he wasn’t afraid to call me out on my shit when the situation warranted it.

  We were as comfortable as an old married couple, except we weren’t. We didn’t even live together, at least not technically. And therein lay the problem. Addie was having a baby, and even though she shot down a marriage proposal from Zep every other day, eventually, they’d figure their shit out and want to live together as a family without the slacker sister tagging along as a roommate. Since I spent most nights at Pope’s, it made sense that cohabitation would be the next logical step in our relationship, but he’d never even hinted at it, and I had no clue how to bring it up without spooking him.

  “What’s the matter?” Pope asked, breaking me out of my internal downward spiral.

  I shifted on my cushion, not liking the knowing gleam in his eyes. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re like a children’s book.”

  My eyes narrowed immediately. Sometimes I truly wondered if the man gently rubbing my feet had a death wish. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’re easy to read. Now tell me what conversation you just had with yourself in that pretty little head of yours.”

  The man saw too much. It was like he was a hound specially trained to sniff out my bullshit.

  “Honestly, it’s nothing,” I said with a flippant wave of my hand. I hoped my expression was blasé enough to cut off his suspicions.

  I was wrong.

  “So it is something. You just don’t want to talk about it.”

  Was this an out or a trap? I didn’t know because he was giving me that disappointed dad face again.

  I hedged my bets and hoped I was right. “Exactly, I don’t want to talk about it.” Pulling back my legs from his lap, I moved to get up, but his hand shot out and caught one of my ankles before I could make a break for it.

  I tried to maneuver out of his grasp, but his grip just tightened. “Too bad, we’re talking about it.”

  “You can’t make me!” I shouted, suddenly belligerent. There was no way I was going to initiate the “next step” conversation.

  “Don’t make me cuff you and force it out of you,” Pope warned.

  He wouldn’t dare. But then again, the twinkle in his eye said otherwise.

  Savvy, shut this shit down before you go and screw up the best thing that has ever happened to you.

  Realizing my struggling wasn’t getting me anywhere, I let out an exasperated sigh and flopped back onto the couch. “Really, it’s stupid.”

  “Nothing about you is stupid, sweetheart. Just tell me what’s got your head spinning.” His thumb stroked my ankle soothingly, back and forth, back and forth, lulling me into a submission.

  A new wave of panic rolled through me, but I tamped it down.

  “It’s just that Addie and Zep are having a baby and—”

  Pope raised a hand to cut me off. “You want to have a baby?” The mischievous twinkle that sparkled in his eyes a moment ago was replaced by either excitement or utter terror. I couldn’t decipher which.

  “What? No! I mean, not yet,” I added shyly.

  Oh shit, what if Pope didn’t want kids?

  We’d never discuss
ed it, but I’d always figured it was a given. But what if it wasn’t? What if he hated kids? Oh God, he’d have a baby with me because I wanted one, but secretly he’d resent our child and me for ruining his life. Then he’d start drinking more than Babs on the Fourth of July. He’d never be happy, so I’d never be happy, and our children would grow up to be serial killers and hookers because their parents never showed them any affection.

  Taking a deep breath, I unleashed my worries with a torrent of nonsensical, stream of consciousness word vomit. “Of course, I want kids, but not if you don’t want kids because hookers and murderers come from families that don’t love them. Also, I’m abnormally strong, so my serial killer hooker spawn would totally overpower Addie’s kid, and then the family would be split because our kid killed hers. That’s not really what I was worried about until you brought it up, but now that’s all I can think about. Oh God, what if Fluffy eats the baby?” I wailed, burying my face in my hands.

  Strong fingers wrapped around my shoulders and gave me a little shake. “Whoa, Savannah! Take a breath.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s not even why I was being weird.”

  His rough hands had slid up from my shoulders and along the sensitive skin of my neck before his palms came to rest on my cheeks. His thumbs stroked away the tears that had fallen as he stared into my eyes, his gaze patient and understanding as always. “Why don’t we start with what was on your mind first, and then we can move onto whatever the hell that was, okay?”

  I nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “That means you’re going to need to use your words, babe.”

  I scoffed and shoved at his chest. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  His answering smirk made one of his dimples pop, and damn if that didn’t put me in a whole other state of mind. Taking a few deep breaths to steady myself, I prepared to do the scariest thing I’d ever done. I was going to let it all hang out in front of the man I’d fallen madly in love with. It was more terrifying than anything I’d ever done. Absolutely nothing compared, not bungee jumping or skydiving, or that one bank job.