The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  “I know who I want in the room!” She wiggles with glee. “A couple who really needs to have a messy birthing experience right up in their faces. One of which has landed us in that very delivery room.”

  “Ellis and Giselle.” I give her a high five. “Finally, Harrison and my sister will have a dose of reality hit them.”

  She holds up two fingers. “Two doses of reality. Two bloodied, screaming beings that will most likely be ripped from the center of my body like aliens.”

  Skyla has recently added a fear of C-sections to her list of phobias. I can’t blame her. Having what amounts to a major surgery while you’re awake doesn’t sound appealing to me either. Although, shooting a couple of bowling balls from a birth canal doesn’t have a much greater appeal. I realize women do this every day, but this is Skyla, my woman. And she’s tiny, like really small. Hell, I barely fit inside her. I’m just praying the experience doesn’t split her in half, or worse, kill her.

  Her chest rises and falls with a dull laugh as she rattles my hand with hers.

  “I hope it doesn’t kill me either, Gage.” She slaps her thigh. “And thanks to all those Burger Shack runs, I’m not so tiny anymore.” Her head snuggles in the crook between my neck and shoulder. “So, Ellis and Giselle?”

  “Ellis and Giselle.” I shake my head at the pairing. “Here’s hoping they don’t have any watermelon babies in their future.”

  “You mean near future.”

  “No—I’m pretty sure I mean future.”

  “You don’t mean it.” She scratches lightly at my chest. “We want everyone to be as happy as we are.” Skyla leans up and presses a kiss to my lips. “I love you, Gage Oliver. Now, satisfy my craving for something hot and stiff deep inside me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  We are happy.

  Aren’t we?

  * * *

  The month wears on, and classes at Host U start picking up steam. I’ve got Kresley in two of my courses, and I’ve yet to tell Skyla. I don’t really see a need to stress her out, and I have a feeling Kresley and her constant pestering might do just that.

  Mom called and asked if Skyla and I would come for dinner. The Walshes have taken a look at our bid and dropped off a counter-offer back at my parents’ house. Mom also informed me she made the bizarre move of inviting Tad and Lizbeth for dinner as well. Initially, I wanted to rage. Why? I eat dinner with these people on a regular basis. I need a break, but I suppose since the babies will be here soon, I’d better get used to having both sets of parents mingling quite a bit. I’m assuming they’ll all insist on being hands-on grandparents, minus Tad. He’s pretty much hands-off with his own kids, so I don’t expect any special treatment for my own.

  We all head over together, separate cars, but a caravan nonetheless. Once we arrive, it’s a greet-fest at the door as my parents make sure to welcome the Landons as if they were royalty—as if they’ve never met before.

  Since Skyla’s siblings weren’t invited, what appears to have been an olive branch by my mother was still interpreted as a snub by most of the Landon clan. Mia and Melissa went on and on wondering why “that witch” would exclude them. Both Lizbeth and Skyla asked them not to speak of my mother that way, but that didn’t seem to stop them from feeling insulted. I would have reprimanded them myself, but, in truth, I know what it feels like to be snubbed by someone you’d like to at least have acknowledged you. I glance up at the sky in the event Candace decides to play toss the lightning bolt at her least favorite Oliver.

  Inside, we find Liam and Michelle, Logan, Lexy, Kresley, and her chesty friend, Grayson. Ellis and G are in the kitchen helping with dinner.

  “What’s up?” I slap Logan five and pull him in. “Have I got a surprise for you,” I whisper, doing a quick sweep of the room for my least favorite Sector. Skyla might have to keep his secret, but I sure as hell don’t.

  “What is it?” He gets that serious look on his face that usually springs up when we’re dealing with faction business.

  “Nothing important, trust me. Just something—I don’t know, laughable.” I shrug it off.

  “So, Liam”—Kresley says it loud enough to get the attention of the entire room, or more to the point, me—“tell me all about that racecar of yours. I’d love to see it sometime.”

  Skyla comes over with Giselle in tow. “I bet she’d like to see it—test out the seat, see if it reclines. She’s going to defile the Mustang.”

  “What?” My ego takes a tiny hit as I scope out whether or not Kresley’s hard-hitting tactics with Liam are simply a ploy. Come to think of it, I’ll be better off if they’re not.

  “Sure thing, my little sweetheart,” Liam coos, and both Michelle and Lexy grow proverbial horns and tails right before our eyes. He has no clue who he’s messing with. I lean into Logan. “Liam is about to have his ass handed to him by Miller.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s probably a good thing. Plus, Lex is getting tired of my hard-to-get antics. I think she might be throwing her hat in the ring as well.”

  “Exciting!” Skyla sings. “Looks like a bloodbath will ensue. I hope the three of them die a slow, painful, completely non-sexual death at the hand of your brother-slash-uncle.”

  “Skyla!” Giselle inches back, appalled. “That’s completely vile of you.”

  “You know what’s vile?” She steps toward Giselle until her belly bumps into my sister. “The fact a certain Sector I know told me about how you were in his AP Geometry class and then poof!” She snaps her fingers. “You weren’t.”

  Giselle slips her hand over her lips. I must admit, it’s adorable as hell the way she’s so innocent, and then at the same time, it’s scary as hell.

  “What’s going on?” I gently pull my wife back. Skyla has a temper like never before, and as certain as I am that it’s temporary, I’m sort of digging it. I do find the Hell-on-Wheels version of Skyla entertaining to no end—as long as her temper is directed far away from me.

  “Giselle dropped out.”

  My sister’s mouth falls open so wide it looks like a silent scream. “You’re a little snitch!”

  Lexy strolls up and locks her arm over Logan’s. “Looks like she’s got you all figured out, Messenger.”

  “Stay out of this, Lex, and get your hands off him.” She turns back to Giselle. “If you don’t get your butt back in school, Ellis Harrison is going to be your biggest mistake! And don’t try to deny he has anything to do with this.”

  “So, what if he does?” Giselle’s eyes narrow with venom. “Ellis is the smartest person I know!”

  Shit. Both Logan and I groan in unison.

  Giselle plucks Ellis over to the conversation as he strolls into the room with a plate full of appetizers. “Tell them about how the school system in this country has systematically been dumbed-down since the fifties. Tell them that I can earn a better education watching reality TV than sitting in that bureaucratic”— she leans into Ellis—“what’s the next part?”

  “It’s not important.” He pats her arm.

  “Ellis?” I shake my head. “I thought we talked about this. She stays in school, and if she doesn’t, I’m not cool with this.” I flail my hand between the two of them.

  “Sorry, dude. She does her own thing. Do you run around telling Messenger what to do?”

  “I sure as hell don’t tell her to stop going to school and sit around all day watching TV.”

  Skyla winces. “Actually, you sort of did.”

  My phone goes off. It’s a text from Wes. Why the hell is my Immunity League shriveling to nothing?

  I bury the phone back deep into my pocket because I don’t have time for any of his Immunity League bullshit at the moment.

  “Skyla”—my voice softens as I plead—“I suggested you take the semester off and relax with your feet up—catch up on our backed-up DVR, because when the ‘baby’ gets here, that might be a little hard,” I say as kind as possible. My heart is pounding right out of my chest, because like a fool, ins
tead of letting it go I had to have my say. To be honest, it’s Logan I wanted to offer the explanation to. I would never want him to think I was anything but loving toward Skyla.

  She dips her chin, and her eyes narrow in on mine in that I’m-about-to-school-you way, and the irony isn’t lost on me one bit.

  “And I suggested I try to finish the semester because the baby isn’t due until after finals. Now, I’ll be a whole semester behind, and you’ll get to lord the fact you graduated before me for the rest of our lives.”

  I pause a moment. There’s something endearing about the way she insists I’ll be on this spinning rock long enough to lord anything over her for long.

  “If the baby comes early, you’ll thank me for the money we saved on tuition.” I turn to Logan. “At this point, her good luck scholarship has run dry, and we’re hoofing it from here on out.”

  “Good luck?” Skyla howls, incensed. “Those were hard won dollars, Gage Oliver.”

  Logan frowns at me as if I were anything but loving toward Skyla. It seems I can’t get anything right tonight.

  Michelle and Kresley hit a crescendo in their tug-of-war over Liam down at the other end of the room just as Mom walks in waving a manila envelope, and I couldn’t be happier for the distraction.

  “Why don’t we end the mystery before dinner? I’ve got a good feeling about this!” she says it loud—alarmingly loud, and everyone stops what they’re doing and tries to decode what the hell she’s talking about.

  “Skyla?” Lizbeth scuttles into the room along with my father and Tad. “Is there something we should know about? Is this one of those gender-reveal parties?” She claps up a storm, and the room fills with a dull buzz over the idea.

  “No.” She touches her belly protectively. She’s wearing a bright blue dress that Brielle somehow procured for her. It’s the exact shade of blue that her stomach has warmed to over the last few weeks, and lucky for Skyla because I think the babies just lit up like a Christmas tree. “It’s silly, actually.” She gives me a look that stings. “Gage and I thought it would be funny if we put an offer on the house next door. Something so low and ridiculous, no one in their right mind would accept it.”

  Funny? Silly? This funny silly stunt has the potential to nail us to those creaky floorboards for the next thirty years—at least mortgage-wise. I’m sure she’s just trying to save face with her mom.

  “You’re really moving?” Lizbeth does her best impression of that sad looking theater mask. Her mouth in a full open frown, a difficult feat that leaves me a little in awe more than it does grieved to be leaving the “Landon Lap of Luxury” as Tad likes to remind me. I’ve got news for him, an orange shag rug in the family room and an avocado stove do not a luxury make. No one ever said the Bishop’s had taste. Lizbeth just sort of inherited the mess.

  “I can’t believe this.” She staggers forward blindly. “I thought I’d be right in the next room when you cried out from the pain of cracked nipples. I bought six tubes of lanolin to surprise you with.” Her eyes water on cue—and crap, Skyla is falling right into this lanolin-lubed tub of melancholy. I can’t blame her. Skyla and her mom are pretty close even if they don’t always see eye-to-eye.

  Misty whines, and Beau kicks at Lizbeth’s shin, but she’s too focused on her newfound grief to pay them any attention.

  Tad’s head spikes up from his overladen plate brimming with bits of smoked salmon. When he walked in, I heard him ask my dad if he ever tried using it as bait.

  “Ha!” Tad crows. “Like you two could ever afford property on this forsaken rock.” He turns to Skyla. “Your mother and I had to find a haunted house just to afford a place on this swanky island.”

  Lizbeth gasps. “Wait a minute…Is there something wrong with this house?” Her hand cinches over her neck at the thought of us finding another home infested with the ghost of a Bishop.

  “Oh”—Skyla glances to my mother—“it’s the house we showed you—right next door.” She lays a heavy emphasis on those last three words.

  “Isn’t that something?” Mom gloms onto the conversation like the idea of it being directly within stalking distance is suddenly a good thing. “Open the envelope for heaven’s sake. I’m dying to know what the Walshes have counter-offered.”

  “A whole lot we can’t afford, I’m sure,” Skyla says as I take the envelope from her and slide out the contents.

  “Speaking of afford…” Tad grouses while cinching up his trousers with his thumbs. It’s an annoying habit, and I’m hoping one day he’ll pull his pants right over his head and get lost in them. “What are you two planning to put down on the place? A dime and a smile?”

  A dime and a smile. I shake my head. Although, that’s not far from what we offered. And sadly, these days, all the Landons have to show for themselves are a dime and a smile. Althorpe cut Tad’s hours and pay to near nothing. All he does now is scheme with his poor wife on ways to rip-off local businesses. The promise of the big racket looms over the Landon house like a dark cloud. I’m worried about the kind of example they’re setting for Mia and Melissa—Beau and Misty. If they’re not careful, they might raise a houseful of con artists before they know it.

  Skyla tenses beside me. “Pierce Kragger bought me out of the Gas Lab,” she sighs into her mother as if to further explain away her new housing pickle.

  “Oh?” Tad staggers forward. “What about Ethan? That’s his baby. If anyone deserves to be bought out, it’s my son.”

  Amen to that. Out being the operative word. I’m not too sure Nev and Ezrina will be quite as financially generous to him, though.

  Before Skyla can answer, I spot the word accepted in big bold letters across the top of the page wilting in my hand.

  “We got the house.” The words string from me numbly. What happens next is an odd celebratory shout from everyone at once as the room breaks out into loud raucous cheers.

  Mom rallies the troops to the door. “Let’s head on over! The Walshes won’t mind one bit!”

  Lizbeth wags a finger as she follows her out. “Now that it belongs to Gage and Skyla, you might want to wait for an invitation. If what goes on in that bedroom of theirs is any indication of what will take place in that house—expect a new grandchild every year for the next few decades!”

  They break out in unified cackles, and, as much as I detest the pretense, deep down I appreciate the camaraderie.

  We head over next door as a single mob of overly excited villagers.

  “Congratulations, you two.” Logan looks from me to Skyla before giving a worrisome glance to the overgrown weeds, the slightly crooked pitch on the roof, the dingy white clapboard panels, splitting and lopsided, and let’s not forget the door hanging on its hinges for dear life.

  “It’s a fixer,” I say apologetically to those who seem to have fallen in a what-the-fuck induced trance.

  “I’ll say.” Tad is the first to venture inside. And with Tad as our fearless leader, a slight sense of buyer’s remorse sets in before any money, or in our case—roll of dimes, ever changes hands.

  It’s dark inside the house, right up until a bevy of cell phones turn into flashlights, and suddenly, it looks like a CSI crime scene.

  “Skyla!” Lizbeth takes a few brave steps forward, and the house gives an unfortunate creak that sounds a bit threatening. “It’s so much more spacious than I remember! There is so much untapped potential here.”

  Grayson, Kresley’s breasty buddy, lets out a titter. “Is she serious? This is a fucking haunted house if I’ve ever seen one,” she whispers a little too loud, and both Misty and Beau begin to wail.

  “I’m totally serious.” Lizbeth continues to marvel and touch her hand to things that might actually gift her a medical grade bacterium that not even antibiotics can hope to conquer. “I’ve always loved the idea of molding a place from the ground up and watching as it becomes exactly what I desire.” She pats Tad on the back. “I’m a sucker for a good fixer-upper.”

  I look to Logan and shake m
y head because she just made it way too easy.

  “From the ground up is right,” Tad balks. “You’ll need to raze this place before you ever get started. And none of that keep one wall standing bologna. This is a take-it-to-the-rubble kind of trouble. Boy, I wouldn’t want to be your savings account right about now. Talk about your shrinkage.”

  “We’re just planning on doing a little work as we go.” It comes out a little gruffer than I wanted, but Tad seems to bring out the douche in me. “We’re pretty much moving in just as it is.”

  A horrific crackle emits from the kitchen as a good portion of the ceiling falls to the floor, creating a mushroom cloud of chalky, most likely asbestos-riddled drywall dust.

  Everyone runs like hell out the front door with me protecting Skyla and the babies, using my body as a human shield.

  “Shit.” I glance back at the house as a plume of white dust blows out of its every orifice. “Are you okay?” I plant a kiss on Skyla’s temple.

  “Yes, I’m totally fine, I promise.”

  Logan slaps me on the back. “I’ll call that builder I used for White Horse.” He looks to Skyla with an apology in his eyes. “Skyla, why don’t you Pinterest your heart out and design a house you’ll love. I’ll do whatever I can to make it happen.” Logan would take on the debt of the world to make her happy, so would I, but I happen to be a little more destitute and have no access to my own piece of real estate to take out a double mortgage on if I had to. Logan has always had a leg up on me, and perhaps a bigger heart.

  Skyla shifts from foot-to-foot, her face expressing an entire range of scowls and grimaces at the property we’re about to acquire—or not. But something in me doesn’t want to lose this. Something in me doesn’t want Logan to continually be her white knight, riding in and saving the day—especially when I fuck up.

  “We can always back out.” And I’m a wimp.

  “Are you kidding?” Skyla wraps an arm around me as we gawk at the disaster in front of us together. “Fixing up a house is one of life’s greatest adventures.” Her lips twitch the way they do when she’s treading just this side of the truth. “But in the meantime, it looks as if we’ll have to stay where we are, at least until this place is livable.” A tiny satisfied smile buds on her lips. “I have a feeling I’ll have plenty of time to use six tubes of lanolin.”