Page 129 of Call You Mine
His usual cool demeanor is gone, replaced with fury Ihaven’t seen from him before. He closes the distance between the front door of the bar and Letterman Jacket, grabbing him by the damp collar of his shirt, pulling him up the few inches that Anderson has on him. “What did you just call mywife?”
The guy tries to step out of Anderson’s hold, but the grip on his T-shirt doesn’t give. “She sprayed me with the soda gun,” the guy whines, sounding like he’s about to get grounded.
“I don’t care if she shoved the damn thing down your throat,” Anderson says, and the whole crowd has quieted, everyone watching the exchange. “You don’t get to call her, or any other woman, a bitch. Ever. You hear me?”
“But—”
“See, I think you’re just dumb,princess,” I say to the man, echoing some of his words to me from before, causing him and Anderson to turn my way. I cross my arms over my chest. “My husband asked if you heard him.”
He looks between me and Anderson, sputtering as if he could say anything that wouldn’t embarrass him even more.
“I heard you,” he mumbles to Anderson, and I roll my lips together to hold in my laugh.
“Apologize to my wife,” Anderson says, his knuckles white from how hard he holds the guy’s collar. “Now.”
I almost feel bad for the guy when he turns my way, covered in soda, his lack of hair even more obvious with how wet the strands are. He mumbles an apology that I guess suffices, but Anderson doesn’t agree.
“Try again. I want the whole bar to hear you, asshole.”
“Fuck, okay. I’m sorry,” he exclaims. “Happy?” This time, when he tries to back out of Anderson’s grip, he lets him, pushing him just enough to have the guy stumbling backwards.
“Good, now get the fuck out of here,” Anderson says, but the guy is already halfway toward the door, the crowd cheering as it slows behind him.
I round the bar as quickly as I can, moving through all the people to get to Anderson, throwing my arms around him and pressing my mouth to his, eliciting more cheers from everyone in the bar.
“Okay, what the hell just happened?” Emerson’s voice has us breaking the kiss as her, Rumi, and Jack join us by the bar.
“Yeah, what the hell was that?” Anderson repeats in my direction, his anger simmering now that it’s directed at me. “My pregnant wife has no business getting into bar fights.”
“I—” I start, but I’m interrupted by a series of screams from Rumi and Emerson.
“You’re pregnant?” Rumi squeals, grabbing me by the shoulders at the same time that Emerson looks at me with her mouth wide open.
“Surprise?” I say, but it comes out more like a question. I didn’t want to make a big deal of the news, and I was having trouble figuring out how to do it.
Somehow, this is perfect.
Untraditional, unconventional.
Us.
“No more surprises,” Emerson finally says, using her hands to fan herself as if she’s seconds away from fainting. “You two have officially hit your surprise limit for the year.”
“For the next ten years," Rumi adds, and I notice my cheeks are aching from how wide I’m smiling.
“How about one more?” I say, holding up a finger, looking at Anderson, who gives me a small nod before wrapping his arms around my waist, holding my back against his front.
“No, I said no more,” Emerson says, shaking her head, lifting her arms like she’s throwing up her defenses.
“You’ll like this one,” Anderson argues over my shoulder.
I grab Rumi’s hand with one hand and Emerson’s with the other. Their gazes pull to mine, and I feel my throat clog with emotion, my nose prickling. “Will you two be the baby’s godmothers?” I ask.
Both of them look at me, their eyes wide and their lips parted. Even though the bar is loud and buzzing with conversation, it feels like it’s just us. Just me and my best friends.
“Yes!” Rumi screams, while Emerson says, “Duh.”
I step out of Anderson’s hold and into my best friends’, pulling each other into a group hug.
