by Wendy Wax
Avery and Maddie stood and began gathering the empty wine bottle and glasses. Avery picked up the Cheez Doodles and hugged them to her chest.
“Are you okay?” Maddie asked quietly, her eyes searching Avery’s face.
“Yes.”
Maddie remained silent. Waiting. A knowing and sympathetic look on her face.
“It’s just that Jeff is so horribly unhappy with his situation. And Jason is—I don’t know what’s going on with him. He used to be so sweet and eager to please and all he wanted to do was play baseball. Now he’s skipping practice and trampling every possible rule. It’s kind of like World War Three in the Hardin household at the moment.”
“And?” The question was gentle. As was the expression on Maddie’s face. She was the mother all children deserved but rarely got.
“I’m not equipped to handle any of it. And when I try, Chase won’t allow it.”
“Do you need to get back to Tampa?”
If it had been anyone besides Maddie asking, Avery might have lied. She shook her head.
“Good,” Maddie said. “Stay. You can bunk with me. It’s been far too long since we’ve had a proper pajama party.”
• • •
Nikki struggled out of bed on Saturday morning with eyes gritty from lack of sleep. By all rights, the amount of tears she’d been shedding lately—often for no apparent reason—should have kept them lubricated, but it didn’t seem to work that way. Though she couldn’t have said why, the bigger her stomach got, the more pathetic and needy she became. Instead of rejoicing that the babies were “viable” and seemingly healthy, she continued to worry that something somehow was going to go wrong. Every morning as she dragged her ungainly body out of bed more exhausted than when she’d gotten into it, she vowed to do better. To focus on the positive, to appreciate Joe and her impending motherhood. Every day she failed.
Bella Flora was oddly empty when she made her way downstairs and into the kitchen. Everyone but Joe had gone off and left her without a word. Even Maddie had deserted her. And who could blame her? Nikki had become someone even Nikki didn’t want to be around.
“Why don’t we go out for lunch?” Joe said after she’d stared first at the coffeepot and then dejectedly out the kitchen window for an embarrassingly long time. “You know, get dressed up a bit? Maybe go downtown and sit outside at one of the new restaurants. Or tour the Dali Museum?”
She shook her head glumly. She’d pulled on a pair of ratty running tights—the only ones whose elastic waist hadn’t stretched out too far to hold them in place beneath her massive stomach—and topped it with one of Joe’s long-sleeved FBI T-shirts that she’d claimed months ago. It strained across the vastness of her middle and hung unevenly across her upper thighs. Its Rorschach of food stains bore silent witness to her gluttonous appetite. The auburn hair she used to color and maintain religiously had been woven into a clumsy French braid, and her bloated and blotchy face was devoid of the makeup she’d always donned like armor and once wouldn’t have left the house without.
In contrast Joe wore a freshly pressed button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow to reveal lightly tanned and muscled forearms. It was neatly tucked into a pair of khaki shorts that hugged the slim hips she currently envied. She’d had hips once. And a waist, too. His thick dark hair was still damp from the shower.
“I’m just going to take a walk on the beach.” She hated the pathetic tone she heard in her voice but was powerless to stop it.
Avery would have rolled her eyes. Maddie would have said something soothing. Joe said only, “I’ll come with you.”
When she nodded, got up, and walked toward the French door, he added, “Wouldn’t you like to change first?”
“To walk on the beach?” Not too long ago, she would have only shown him her dressed and made-up best side. She’d rarely even gone for a run without makeup and designer Lycra. But she couldn’t remember the last time she’d run and couldn’t imagine ever having the strength to run again. The idea of walking back upstairs and confronting herself in a mirror was far too painful.
The sun was out and with her extra bulk providing furnace-like warmth, she didn’t bother with a sweatshirt or jacket. Or shoes for that matter.
“Don’t you want to at least bring a pair of flip-flops?”
Reluctant to see her sorry self reflected in Joe’s sunglasses or, worse, in his eyes, Nikki did not turn around. She tromped down the sandy path past the jetty and onto the beach, where she lifted her face to the weak winter sun. At the water’s edge the cold damp sand sucked at her feet.
Joe caught up with her. Rather than scold or criticize, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and matched his steps to hers.
“I don’t understand how you put up with me. I can’t even stand me right now.”
“Don’t worry about it, Nik. If I was carrying the load you are, I have no doubt I’d be just as prickly. My mother told me that when she was pregnant with me, she packed her bags and threatened to leave my father regularly.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to shower and, um, dress? It might make you feel better. Then we could go to a movie or out for lunch.”
“No. I . . . I just want to walk.” She kept her chin up and focused on putting one foot in front of another, careful not to lean too heavily on him. “But you can go back if you want.” She thought about Joe’s mother and father—they’d been together so long, it was hard to imagine either had ever been seriously unhappy with the other. They were due in next week. Because she could go into labor at any time. A tingle of fear snaked up her spine. It didn’t matter how many times the doctor told her that everything looked fine; the fear of something going wrong hung on her like a sodden blanket she couldn’t shake off. And then there was the fact that Joe professed to love her, refused to get angry with her, but no longer wished to marry her.
They passed the Paradise Grille, where music played and people sat at the picnic tables with their burgers and fries. She breathed the scent of fried potatoes that carried on the breeze and felt a too familiar stirring of hunger. The image of a hamburger planted itself in her head and refused to go away. They continued onward and the movement, the sand squishing between her toes, the soft breeze on her face combined with Joe’s solid presence, caused her shoulders to relax. Her mood began to lighten.
The Don CeSar grew larger, its bell towers and cupolas more defined as they approached. A text dinged in on Joe’s phone and he pulled it out of his pocket. She felt a slight burr of irritation as he removed his arm so that he could text an answer.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. Just my parents’ flight information.”
Her stomach rolled at the thought of their imminent arrival. They’d never been less than warm and gracious to Nikki. She knew how much the birth of Joe’s children meant to them. She also knew she was not what they’d envisioned for their son.
“Nonna Sofia is coming with them.” He pocketed his phone. “Why don’t we stop at the Sunshine Hotel and take a look at our unit—maybe figure out what we need.”
She missed a step. She’d hoped to put off dealing with furnishing the apartment a little longer, though she couldn’t have said exactly why.
“We can have lunch there first.”
“Oh, but . . .” She could hardly argue that she didn’t want to be seen in her current state when he’d given her every opportunity to make herself presentable. And what logical reason could there be for refusing to set foot in the place he’d bought for them? “I could probably eat a little something.”
His lips twitched at that, but he wisely said nothing. Together they walked up the beach and between the dunes that had hidden the once-moldering midcentury hotel from view.
Nikki tossed her braid over her shoulder, clamped down on her regret at leaving the house looking like shit, and vowed that this one time she would be grateful if no
one looked past her mountainous stomach.
Another text dinged into Joe’s phone. He texted back. She wondered at the odd smile of satisfaction that flitted across his face, but her nose had picked up the scent of burgers on a grille. She followed that scent—and Joe—through the opening in the low pink wall and across the Sunshine Hotel and Beach Club’s brand-new pool deck.
“Why don’t we eat up on the rooftop?”
At the moment she didn’t care where they ate as long as large quantities of red meat were involved. With a nod of agreement, she headed for the staircase and was too intent on keeping her balance and getting to the food to protest when Joe came up by her side and slid an arm around her waist as if she weren’t capable of walking up a flight of stairs or holding on to a railing.
Midway up, she began to huff a bit, but forced herself to keep going. Joe’s arm tightened at her back when she swayed slightly. Focus! Her eyes strayed to the Plexiglas shield beneath the tubular railing and she swayed again. Almost there.
“What did you say?”
“Just wondering what kind of burger to have.” She took one more step. Then another. The single flight was beginning to feel like Everest. The breeze stirred the hair that had come out of its braid. She swiped it out of her eyes, appalled. Was she really wheezing midway up a flight of stairs? What had happened to the woman who used to run three miles without giving it a thought and then spent the rest of the day stripping floors?
“Don’t push yourself, Nikki. Let’s just stop for a minute and—”
“Don’t be silly!” she snapped. Before he could respond or she could think better of it, she bounded up the last four steps in something that may have resembled a run.
Through sheer force of will, she reached the top. But instead of victoriously planting her flag at the summit, she doubled over, gasping for breath. Which was when she realized that right before she’d closed her eyes and begun gulping air into her lungs, she’d seen a large group of people. A group that included all the current residents of Bella Flora, Realtor John Franklin, his wife Renée, and her sister Annelise as well as Joe’s parents and grandmother. Chase and Jeff Hardin were there, too, along with interior designer Ray Flamingo, who’d replaced Deirdre after her death and whose talent had helped transform the Sunshine Hotel. Two video cameras were filming Nikki’s every move. And if her oxygen-deprived brain hadn’t been imagining it, they were all holding bunches of pink balloons. And all of them, including Joe’s Nonna Sofia, had shouted, “Surprise!”
Five
If not for the iron band of Joe’s arm at her back, Nikki would have been somersaulting down the stairs she’d barely managed to climb. As it was, she raised her head, still trying to drag air into her lungs and make sense of what she was seeing. Kyra and Troy were still shooting—she knew enough to recognize they were zooming in for close-ups of her bloated, makeup-free face. Everyone else had fallen silent.
Despite fervent prayers, the assembled group was real. This might be a nightmare, but it definitely wasn’t a dream. Joe’s arm shifted slightly, urging her forward.
Dustin stepped closer and handed her a pink balloon. Maddie stepped up behind him and hugged Nikki tightly. “Welcome to your baby shower!”
Ray Flamingo, who had traded his signature sherbet-hued linen shirts for a winter white sweater and pants, said, “We definitely surprised her.”
“Yeah, great job,” Avery said. “I was afraid she was going to have a heart attack.”
“I’m surprised we didn’t shock her into labor,” Kyra said, lowering her camera.
Joe’s mother, Gabriella, gave Nikki an enthusiastic hug. Of average height with a short saucy cap of salt-and-pepper hair, she had warm brown eyes that glimmered with humor and full lips that, even in repose, tilted upward. Joseph Senior was trim and athletic and possessed a full head of thick white hair. The chiseled nose and chin he’d bequeathed to Joe were still strong and determined.
“I hope the surprise is a good one,” Gabriella said.
“Of course it is.” Nikki found her voice. “I just wish your son had tried a little harder to convince me to dress and put on makeup.”
Joe laughed. “I did consider slinging you over my shoulder, carrying you back upstairs, and dressing you myself. But it didn’t seem right to resort to brute force. I’m pretty sure there must be some law against cosmetic coercion?”
“I don’t think even you could be slinging her over your shoulder at the moment,” Avery said.
“Nor would it be good for the bambine,” Nonna Sofia said, her piercing black eyes aimed at Nikki’s stomach. Her olive-tinged skin was surprisingly unwrinkled for a woman of ninety. A white streak zigzagged through her still dark hair like a lightning bolt. Barely over four feet, she carried herself with an air of command and had a reputation for dabbling in ancient Italian curses. The jury was out on whether she had, in fact, aimed a fertility spell Nikki’s way. “Come, sit down. Get off your feet.” She motioned Nikki and Joe to their seats at the center of a long rectangular table covered in a pale pink tablecloth and dotted with flowers no doubt plucked from Renée Franklin’s garden and arranged in baby-bootie-shaped ceramic planters.
Renée and her sister, Annelise, owned the Sunshine Hotel and Beach Club, which Maddie, Avery, Nikki, and crew had recently renovated for what they’d hoped would be a kinder, gentler version of Do Over.
There was talk and laughter as everyone took a seat. Waiters brought big platters of cheeseburgers fresh off the grill and placed bowls of salad and French fries within easy reach. Nikki sighed happily. “The perfect meal,” she said as she popped a fry into her mouth.
“Enjoy,” Maddie said. “After dessert you two can open the presents.” She nodded to a nearby table piled high with gifts of all sizes, their common denominator being their pink wrapping paper and bows.
As she tucked into the meal, Nikki’s dark mood lifted. In that moment the affection that surrounded and flowed over her and the babies jostling inside her could not be mistaken or misunderstood. She was pleasantly full when the cake, which was covered in pink fondant icing, was wheeled over.
“I would have put the girls’ names on the cake if we actually knew what their names were going to be,” Maddie teased as she cut a large piece, set it in front of Nikki, and watched her dig in.
“I have a sinking feeling they’re going to come home from the hospital as Baby Girl Number One and Baby Girl Number Two,” Joe said in mock horror.
“Instagram filters are popular for babies right now,” Kyra said. “Maybe you should name the twins Lux and Reyes.”
Nikki finished her piece of cake then cast an inquisitive eye toward Joe’s.
“Okay, I take it that’s a no on the Instagram names. Why don’t you tell us your top contenders so we can vote? It could be a secret ballot—just to provide helpful input,” Kyra suggested.
But there were no top contenders. Nikki had been afraid to choose names due to the nebulous “just in case” that she’d been unable to shake. “I saw an article recently that suggested waiting until they come home and you see their personalities,” she said.
“I saw that article, too,” Kyra said. “But I’m pretty sure they were talking about puppies.”
There was laughter.
“Maybe waiting’s not such a bad thing,” Avery chimed in. “Yesterday Nikki spent two hours trying to decide between orange and apple juice. Do you get your brain cells back after you give birth?”
“Not immediately,” Renée said. “But part of that’s due to sleep deprivation.”
“Great,” Nikki said as she polished off the rest of Joe’s cake. “I feel so much more confident now.”
“They’re going to have their names for a very long time. It’s best to choose with care,” Nonna Sofia said. “I personally think Sofia is a very beautiful name.”
“It is, Mama,” Gabriella said. “But Nicole may w
ant to name the babies after her own grandmother or mother.”
For the briefest moment Nikki allowed herself to imagine how much her mother would have loved not only this shower, but seeing her only grandchildren. It might have been an antidote to her son’s criminal behavior. The food she’d just consumed turned leaden in her stomach. Her only living family member resided in jail. The only time she’d seen him since helping Joe put him there, he’d threatened both of them and tried to use her yet again.
“I’m sure you’ll figure out just the right names,” Renée said kindly as the table was cleared. She and Maddie carried the gifts over and piled them near Nikki and Joe. “This is from us,” she said, handing Nikki a brightly wrapped clothing box.
Inside were two adorable tiny bathing suits. “So they can learn to swim before they walk like I did,” Annelise said.
The box also held two tiny terrycloth cover-ups, two pairs of tiny pink flip-flops, and two infant-size Sunshine Hotel and Beach Club sweatshirts.
“Oh, those are adorable!” Maddie said.
Nikki stared down at the tiny leg openings and mock ballerina skirts. Her heart clenched as she held a pair of the flip-flops in one palm. Surely no feet could be that small.
“Wanna stetshirt!” Dustin said.
“I’m glad to hear that,” John Franklin said. “We just happen to have one here in your size.” He handed the folded sweatshirt to Dustin, who wasted no time putting it on.
Kyra turned the camera on Dustin as he beamed and shouted, “Tank too!”
“Open ours.” Maddie nodded to Steve, who slid a large wrapped box across the deck to Nikki and Joe. She managed to rip off most of the paper. Joe tilted the box so they could see the picture on it.
“Trollher!” Dustin shouted and he was right. The box contained a double version of the jogging stroller that Dustin still liked to cruise the beach in.
“This is for you, too.” Maddie handed her an envelope. The handwritten coupon inside promised unlimited babysitting.