Page 183 of I Will Revel in Glory (Death by Daybreak MC 3)
“Alright wife, out,” Beast commands, drying me off and then leaving with a towel wrapped around his hips to fetch us both a change of clothes.
Once I’m fully dressed and my hair and makeup are done, I grab Queenie’s cookbook from Beast’s nightstand drawer, and I open up to one of her recipes. I’m supposed to be making mashed potatoes, mac ‘n’ cheese, and potato salad to go with the barbecued fare that Grainger is cooking up on the grill outside.
He comes in about halfway through me fucking up the noodles for the mac ‘n’ cheese—why are they so slimy?!—and heaves a tired sigh.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he says, moving over to me and pushing me gently away from the pot on the stove. “You’re as bad as your mother when it comes to cooking. Stick to killing people and sucking dick, huh? You’re good at those things.”
I kick him right in the ass. No joke. I actually lift my leg up and nail him in his hard cheeks, and he growls at me.
“You. Out. Now.”
I listen, but only because I’m relieved not to have to cook anything. It’s been well-established at this point that I suck, but I keep trying anyway. When I glance back however, I see that Grainger is peeking into Queenie’s notes to see how she did things.
That makes me happy in a way that I can’t explain, like she’s still here even though she’s not.
A knock on the door drags me out of my reverie, and I move over to open it, finding my poor, grieving mother waiting on the doorstep.
“Nellie,” I say, feeling my throat get tight with emotion again. I blame the pregnancy hormones for that shit. I’m not really this soft, I swear it. “Mom.”
Her blue eyes fill with tears, and she leans in to give me a huge hug, one that’s bigger and tighter and more real than any she’s ever given me before. Somehow, even though I know things are tough for her, that we haven’t seen the end of her deep melancholy, it heals my broken heart a little.
“Gidge,” she sniffs, and I don’t correct her. I decide that, for once, I’ll let this one slide. “I’m happy to be home.”
Even though this isn’t nor has ever been her home, I know what she means.
Back in the fold of the life, in the club, surrounded by extended family.
“Come with me,” I say, taking her hand and leading her into the house and down the hall, past Grainger who calls out a mumbled greeting. We head outside, and I get her seated at the table, offering her up a soda and sitting beside her. Sin, Beast, and Crown make excuses to give us some space. “Talk to me.”
Nellie looks around in awe for a moment before she turns her gaze to mine and takes my hand between two of hers.
“I miss him,” she says, tears building up in her blue gaze and then falling down her face in big, salty droplets. “I miss him, baby, and you look just like him. You look just like your daddy.”
And then we’re both crying, and I’m hugging her, and night is falling and the Edison bulbs are twinkling and somehow, even though I know it isn’t possible, I feel like Cat is watching us. That he’s smiling. That even after the tortured life he lived, he’s found peace.
Here, in this yard, with my mom and, later, our guests, I feel like I find peace, too.
One second, one minute, one day at a time.
While I’m working on, you know, growing a kid, I focus on getting my GED. I guess I must be smart as hell (I already knew that) because it’s easy as fuck. Once I have it, I’m not even sure I know what to do with it.
In the end, I decide to stay on the compound, taking up part-time work in the garage fixing up bikes. That only lasts so long because I get huge. My belly is plump and round, and I end up spending more time at the farmhouse, sitting in the backyard and staring up at the trees with the sunshine on my face. I read a lot of books out there, too. All kinds. Fiction, non-fiction, whatever.
The club wives—spearheaded by Nellie—host me this huge, horrible, over-the-top baby shower that I hate every second of. Before that though, they host a small wedding for René and Nellie that takes place in the same church where I married Beast, where she married Cat. I even have her old wedding dress dry-cleaned so that she can wear it again.
After that … I have to face the reality of my predicament.
Birth.
I have to give birth.
And you know that? It’s fucking disgusting. It isn’t pretty or magical or anything like that, but at the end, I get a tiny baby girl who has a dark swatch of hair on her head and a face that somehow reminds me of Cat even if I know it’s all bullshit.
