Page 130 of Power Move

Mary and Bert stared dumbfounded at one another.

“It wasn’t out of cruelty,” I said. “It was just… out of Ellie’s concern for Eva.”

“So, what do we need to do?” Mary asked.

“I think she needs you to tell her that you love her, that you love our babies and want to be in their lives, and that you would protect them.”

“But they will see Brooke?—”

“No,” Bert shook his head. “What Eva wants is to not be around Brooke unless Brooke is willing to apologize.”

“But Miles and Hannah would never be with their cousins. And we couldn’t possibly have two Christmases, two Easters, and everything else!” Mary declared.

“Everyone has two by the time they have kids and are married,” Bert said. “Why not us?”

“I also don’t know that Eva wants to exclude Miles. She loves him. If Brooke was willing to drop him at yours when all the kids were a little older and we could drop ours… I think Eva might come around to that idea. But right now, she’s very, very pregnant and her emotions always run high. I know normal Eva rolls with the punches and never cries, but pregnant Eva needs a lot of support and cries all the time. Trust me.”

“Are you done yet?” Mary asked, annoyed.

“Not in the slightest,” I answered. “Not with this or Eva. I come from stupid, stubborn stock and never want to admit defeat.”

“We need to talk to her, sweetheart,” Bert said.

“You’re right. I just… where do we begin?” Mary asked.

I smiled. “I think I have an idea.”

36.SHOWERED

Eva

“Don’t worry.There is plenty of sparkling juice,” Dahlia laughed, handing me a wine glass.

I turned my nose. “Too sweet. I’m good with water.”

We looked over the lake from the Delphine family’s beautiful house near Holland. The air was crisp, leaves vibrant, and everything felt cozy with a warm fire in the deck’s fireplace. It was my first time coming this far north with David’s family and it almost made up for my homesickness. It was harvest season. And, as always, the farm put together a fall market and tapped the prior year’s favorite wines for an early tasting.

Of course, nothing the family did wassimple. Everyone wore jeans—ones made by Dior, Balmain, or someone. The boots were Hermes or Stella McCartney. The glasses were all English-cut crystal. Nothing about this wasaverage. Still, I preferred my maternity jeans to all else.

Daphne sat by me, Cordelia looking sweet in a sling.

“How is it going? Are you surviving? I swear we haven’t talked.”

“We finished the god-awful birth class and received a stupidcertificate which Davey put on the fridge. It was so annoying. He couldn’twaitfor that gold star.”

She snickered. “He’s finally a nerd.”

Cordelia yawned loudly. It melted my heart.

“I love her,” I giggled. “She’s so emotive.”

“I love her, but I need her to sleep. Thank God for the night nurse, but I am not sure what we will do up here. It’s a shame Dad isn’t alive. He would have gladly taken the night shift.”

“Make Davey do it,” I laughed. “Tell him it’s good experience.”

“He’d only want you to help. I amnotdoing that to you.”

My belly lurched.