Caught in the Act

by Michelle Minikin

  When Liam comes back with the set of keys, I unlock the car and he drives us down the road to our cabin. We wanted the girls to experience something unlike home, which was why we ended up at the rental cabins.

  “They turned on the heat this morning,” Liam explains. “And the cabin was used recently so there shouldn’t be a piping issue. If there is, they can move us.”

  “So, check the faucets before unpacking?”

  Liam nods. “Yeah. I’m sure it will be fine though.”

  And it was.

  Because it was so late, and I didn’t want London sleeping into the evening, we woke her up—which was sure to show Liam another side of her, but…

  Liam’s stuck with us now.

  I laugh quietly to myself as I pull out the girls’ jammies, and Liam is rearranging their lovies on the bed they’ll be sharing.

  “What has you laughing to yourself?” he asks, looking over his shoulder back at me.

  “That London’s going to show you her crabby side, and that you can’t bail now.”

  He chuckles and straightens. “I’m guessing her crabby side is like your crabby side—” I gasp and throw Sawyer’s fleece footie jams at him, which he catches easily, and one-handedly at that. “I can handle her crabby.”

  “You remember that,” I say, smiling and shaking my head. He steps near and holds out the pajamas, and I take them back, placing them on the bed next to London’s.

  It isn’t too much longer that he must wait, to experience London at her full wrath.

  “I don’t like pasta!” She pushes that plate of macaroni and cheese away from her chair. We ordered from the local Italian place that delivers, grabbing a pizza, stuffed manicotti, and homemade macaroni and cheese for the girls.

  “You love macaroni, London,” I say, pushing the plate back to her.

  “No! Not anymore. I want that,” she points to the manicotti on Liam’s plate.

  She won’t like it, but I let Liam place one of his stuffed shells on her plate.

  Sure enough, she takes one bite and the stuffed ricotta cheese mix has her gagging at the table.

  Before I can react, Liam is leaning over with a napkin in his hand, under her face.

  She’s not going to throw up—I know her better than that—but she does spit out the barely chewed mess.

  Meanwhile, Sawyer is happily playing with her cut-up pizza and macaroni, eating pieces with her bare hands, and dancing happily in her seat. We remembered to bring the girls’ chair pads—these two-inch thick hard pillows that attached to the chair and were in fun kid prints—but forgot Sawyer’s tableware. I gave her a plastic fork, which she used for the first few bites, but now she’s just having a blast, using her hands.

  I don’t have the energy to correct her.

  Soon enough, London is crying at the table because she doesn’t like this food and she’s not hungry and she just wants a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—which we don’t have.

  I’m tired.

  I’m drained.

  I’m over it.

  And when I glance at Liam, he looks so…

  Fucking…

  Calm.

  “Girls, let’s take a bath and then you can meet my mom and dad.”

  London sniffs. “We gotta drive?”

  “No, girly. We’ll talk to them on the iPad.”

  She sniffs again. “’Kay.”

  And then she climbs down from her chair, calm as can be, but still sniffling like her life depends on it.

  “C’mon, half pint. Bath time.”

  Sawyer grins up at him, her face and hands a mess of pizza sauce and macaroni and cheese. “Girl, you are a mess.” He reaches out to her pigtail and pulls out a small noodle chunk.

  Then, with a messy Sawyer in his arm and London holding his hand, he bends down to kiss me. “Finish eating. Don’t clean up. I’m going to eat more later.”

  I look up at him, and I can feel that my look is tired and bordering on resting bitch face, but he just grins.

  Bastard.

  And I say that with love.

  With the kitchen area quiet, I eat another stuffed manicotti before downing a full cup of water. I need something to do, so I clean up the girls’ spots then clean up the counter. I don’t put the food away, but I do make it presentable. I can’t deal with the mess right now.

  It’s not too much longer before Liam and the girls are back, and London appears to be in a better mood. Liam even took the time to braid her hair.

  “Go ahead,” Liam says softly to London, his hand on her head.

  London walks over, and crawls onto the couch next to me, hugging herself to my side. “I’m sorry, mama.”

  I glance over at Liam, who is standing at the counter and grabbing the iPad from the charger. He winks at me before carrying Sawyer over.

  “It’s okay, London. Sometimes I get upset, too.” I kiss her on the temple and all is forgiven.

  “We’re just in time,” Liam tells London as he sits on the couch beside her. “They’re going to expect our call.”

  It’s six-thirty here, meaning it’s eight-thirty in Wisconsin. Liam assured me that it wasn’t going to be too late, even though it feels like it is.

  He presses digital buttons and soon the iPad is ringing. I think I’m almost as nervous with this meeting, as I was for my parents to open their front door.

  “Liam!” A tinny voice comes through, and Liam smiles at the iPad in front of him.

  “Hey, mom. Is dad there?”

  “Right here,” his mom says and from my angle, I can see as the screen moves and both his parents are in the frame.

  “I have some people I want you to meet.”

  “We’re excited, son,” his dad says and it’s true; he sounds excited.

  “First, we have Miss Sawyer.” Liam lowers the screen so Sawyer’s face fills the box showing what our image looks like. He’s doing this in a one-by-one fashion, which has me smiling.

  “Oh, Sawyer. You’re beautiful. Who’s on your pajamas?” his mom asks.

  Sawyer doesn’t often talk to people she doesn’t know, and I think it’s because she doesn’t quite get what’s happening with this video call that she does answer, even if it’s softly and not incredibly easy to understand. “Minnie.”

  “Minnie Mouse, she said, mom.”

  “I heard her, thank you,” Liam’s mom scolds and I can’t help the small laugh from bursting from my lips. “That’s wonderful, Sawyer. How old are you, sweetheart?”

  Sawyer’s shy side comes out now, but she holds up one finger. Then two.

  “She turns two in August. We share a birthday,” Liam explains.

  “We will have to have a big party.” Liam’s mom is animated in how she speaks with Sawyer, and I love it.

  “Alright mom. More girls for you to meet.” He brings the iPad up so his face is in view again. “Next, we have London.” Then he moves the iPad, shifting his body so he can scoot London into his side. I glance at the screen, then at my daughter, who smiles shyly.

  London isn’t a shy girl by any means, and it tickles me that she’s a semi-different girl today.

  “Oh, hello, London. You’re beautiful too.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice, like her smile, is also shy. “I have Doc on my jammies,” she offers, which makes everyone laugh.

  “Doc McStuffins. I love that girl.”

  “I have a Lambie lovie.”

  “Oh, maybe I can meet her someday.”

  London nods, and then offers no other words.

  “Alright, mom and dad. Then there’s baby.” He moves the screen to showcase my large belly, and I shake my head. “You’ll meet that one in June or July.”

  “When’s Kensley’s due date?”

  “The twenty-eighth.”

  “Third baby. I’m betting she’ll be early.”

  “I don’t know,” Liam’s dad finally says. “Liam was ten days late.”

  “Liam was baby number two,” his mom argues. Liam’s dad, smart man,
only shrugs.

  “Alright, guys, we can argue later,” Liam jokes, bringing the camera back to him. “So, these girls and baby are important to me, but the next person is very important to me.” I shake my head at him. He’s having fun though. “I want you to meet you daughter-in-law,” he says proudly before turning the iPad camera to me.

  I smile and wave, and in the screen, can see that I’m blushing like mad. “Hi. I’m Kensley.”

  “Oh, Kensley,” his mom says softly. “Your babies look so much like you.”

  I smile. “I hear that a lot.”

  “I’m Janet. And this is Richard. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  “You too,” I say, nodding.

  Liam hands me the iPad for a moment as he rearranges the girls, then takes it back and holds his arm out so all four of us are in the screen.

  “Alright, mom. What are your questions. Shoot ‘em off. We’ve got bed time in twenty.”

  I reach behind London so I can hit him in the back of the head lightly. “Liam. That’s rude.”

  Both Janet and Richard laugh, as does Liam.

  And then London is laughing, too.

  And I’m still blushing.

  But it’s good.

  It’s all incredibly good.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Liam

  The next five weeks fly by.

  We’re incredibly busy, making sure Kensley is added to my insurance at the right time, and then there was the decision to enroll London into a pre-kindergarten program for the next school year, and we nearly missed the enrollment period for the school Kensley wanted to put London into.

  We organized with our parents when a good time as for them all to fly out—we decided a week before would be early enough—because everyone wants to be here for the baby’s arrival.

  Meanwhile, no word from Mark.

  Zero.

  Kensley’s left messages on his phone, and messages with Sharon, and…

  Nothing.

  Honestly, it makes me nervous.

  Kensley has kept her mind off it all though. Not only has she renovated all the pieces for the baby’s room, and finished Sawyer’s dresser, she also sold three pieces—a buffet, a dresser, and an entry way table.

  She was shocked that they sold quickly, and for the price tag.

  She had a custom listing on her Etsy store, but had to put that on hold, only after contacting the handful of people that commissioned her. Then, after she and I talked it at length—because Kensley liked to talk about everything, forward, backward, left, and right—she decided to take a maternity leave, and wanted to be sure her clients were aware of the timeframe.

  Which, of course, they were.

  I pull my truck up the driveway of the house after my morning at the station. We have an appointment for a 3D ultrasound today, and I told her I’d pick her up at eleven.

  Instead, there she is, in the car port with paint and wax out, dancing to music streaming from the HomePod.

  I’m grinning, shaking my head, as I put the truck in park.

  Laying in the shade of the carport, close enough to monitor Kensley, is Guinness in his favorite frog position.

  On his back…

  Well, on his back is the boxer puppy we got for Sawyer two weeks ago.

  Kensley told me I was crazy, wanting to add a puppy to our mix so close to the baby’s arrival, but it was getting more and more noticeable that Sawyer felt left out when London and Guinness played.

  So.

  Puppy, it was.

  London helped name the puppy, even though he was technically Sawyer’s.

  London’s persuasive like that.

  And even though the puppy is a boy, his name is Doc.

  As in, the forever loved, McStuffins.

  Guinness is teaching Doc all the good things—staying near the girls, keeping Kensley company, staying in the yard…

  But he’s also taking the puppy and getting into things.

  Like a plate of sugar cookies last weekend.

  Or destroying pillows.

  Guinness has never destroyed things, but he’s taking this puppy business seriously—as well as the “permission” to be naughty like the puppy.

  “Whatchu’ up to, beautiful?” I ask, grinning as I lock the truck and making my way into the carport.

  Kensley gasps. “Oh, my goodness. Is it eleven?”

  I chuckle and kneel by the dogs, patting Guinness’s head before scooping the puppy off his back. “Yeah, baby. It is.”

  “Oh, no. Shoot.” She’s basically thirty-eight weeks pregnant and her waddle—especially when she’s in a hurry—is cute as fuck.

  “I’ll clean up in here. You go change.” She’s wearing maternity denim overalls over an old, worn tank top. They’re her painting clothes, and I know she’d rather not be seen in public in them. At this stage, she prefers flowy dresses.

  Says they’re more comfortable.

  I imagine they are.

  There is no more room on Kensley’s little body for this baby. Just last week, the baby jumped from the 85th to 90th percentile in weight. Meaning, this baby was going to be a solid one. Kensley told me that London had been ten pounds, and Sawyer, ten-two—which made me laugh, because they’re such petite things now—and with the way the baby is measuring…

  This one is going to be her biggest.

  I do not know how she carries such big babies.

  With Doc cradled in my arm, I recap Kensley’s jars of chalk paint and wax, then move to shut down, and unplug, the HomePod system.

  “Inside, Guinness.” He groans as he moves up to stretch, but happily trots in front of me, into the house. Guinness goes to his pillow and I crate Doc—even though I know it’s highly likely that Guinness will open the door for him later. After closing and locking the back, sliding door I call out for Kens.

  “You doing okay, babe?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I’m coming.” She’s literally pulling the skirt of her maxi dress down over her hips as she’s walking out of the bedroom. When the material catches on her stomach, she curses under her breath and pulls at it until, finally, it flutters to the floor.

  “Flip flops?” I move to the hall closet.

  “Yes, please.”

  I pull them out of the closet, placing them on the floor and take her hand as she blindly puts them on. Kensley is proud, and she’s independent. Two things that I have had to get used to over the last few weeks.

  On our way out the door, I arm the system—something that I’ve gotten kind of neurotic about since the girls moved in, especially after the car incident.

  We were informed when scheduling this ultrasound that because she’s so far along, and because the baby is so big, we probably won’t get a great picture, but Kensley still wants to do it.

  Therefore, I’m game.

  I am curious if we’ll be able to make out the baby’s facial features, even if it is squished.

  Kensley shared pictures of the girls as newborns with me—all their ten pounds were in their cheeks. They’d been cheeky babies, and I could only imagine this one was going to be too.

  The SUV is easier for Kensley to get in and out of, so I help her into the passenger side and soon we’re on our way.

  Sure enough, baby is incredibly smooshed inside the womb—but it’s clear to see that this baby too, is all cheeks.

  “Baby’s in position. Ready to get the show started,” the tech laughs.

  “Two weeks,” I say, squeezing Kensley’s hand. “Baby’s gotta hang out for two more weeks.” At this point, my waiting game and week comments are a running joke between Kens and me. In all honestly, she could have this baby today, and I’d be ready.

  I am so ready.

  Oh, the irony, though…

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kensley

  “I’m guessing…ten-six,” I say, nodding once as I look out the window.

  “I don’t know. I’m going to guess ten-ten, ten-twelve,” Liam says with a laugh. “That
baby is big, Kens.”

  I groan and shift in my seat, rubbing the large beachball that is now my stomach. “Ten-ten is a big baby.”

  Liam chuckles, taking my hand and kissing it before placing it back to my belly. “Yeah. That’s a big baby.”

  He pulls onto our street and we see it at the same time—if Liam’s slowing down and my small gasp are an indication.

  There’s a car hanging out in front of the house.

  And I’m pretty sure it’s Mark’s.

  “Shit,” Liam mumbles.

  I sit up as best as I can and take a deep breath. “Well. We knew it was coming.”

  Liam pulls the SUV up the drive and I don’t get out before he can circle the car and help me. As my feet hit the ground, I can hear as the other car’s door shuts.

  I can also hear Guinness barking, and it’s almost a foreign sound. He is so well-mannered; I don’t know that I’ve ever heard him bark outside of a demand for breakfast.

  I’m suddenly glad we decided that Liam would pick up the girls after dropping me off. I’d been planning on taking a quick thirty-minute nap before they got home, but it looks like that’s not going to be happening.

  Ever my rock, Liam keeps hold of my hand as we round the back of the SUV to meet my ex.

  “Kensley.” Mark’s eyes drop to my stomach, then glances at Liam. He quickly dismisses him though, looking at me again.

  “Mark.”

  Liam holds my hand tighter, and I’m incredibly glad that he’s here for this.

  “I know the baby is a boy,” he informs me, and I frown. “You will let me know when you go to the hospital, so I can sign the paternity papers.”

  “I don’t even know that the baby’s a boy.”

  Mark pulls something from his back pocket and produces a sonogram.

  A sonogram with my name on it, and a clear view of the baby’s little boy parts. I gasp.

  “How did you get that?”

  Liam, though, speaks up differently. “That can be forged. Kens, he could have taken another, and put your information on it, or flipped the images, or anything.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Mark says, clearly annoyed. “You’re that fucking bastard who did this, aren’t you? You’re the one from the radio.”

  Liam steps forward and, in doing so, puts me behind his back while still holding my hand. “I didn’t do anything. Kensley called. You failed.”