Page 76 of Darling Venom
“I was drunk that night!”
“You’re drunk every night.”
“Not since I moved here. Damn, son, I’ve been sober for a few days now. You haven’t even paid attention. I came here to help.”
“You can help by dying.” Just as the words ripped out of my mouth, my pager started beeping. I pulled it out of my pocket and frowned. “I have a baby to deliver.” I pointed at the cracked picture frame as I stalked downstairs. “Clean this shit up.”
It’d always been like this for me.
Life laced with death.
On the night Kellan died, I’d delivered triplets. The mother, who had been trying to conceive for two decades prior to the pregnancy, listened to me bitch and moan about my brother throughout her weekly checkups right along with the three heartbeats.
She’d decided to call one of her sons Kellan.
I was going to tell him when I got home that night. That he now had a legacy, that someone was named after him, that I know the world is cruelly screwed up, but there are reasons to survive.
I never got the chance.
The past is a hunter, and she never stops chasing.
I read the same line for the tenth time, unable to process it.
My mind was stuck in a different place. Kellan’s bedroom, to be exact, my body between Tate’s legs.
I gripped the highlighter tighter, slid the tip past my teeth, and bit the head.
“Charlotte.” Reagan poked her head out of her door. “I need you to order a courier service for me.”
I tossed the manuscript back onto the slush pile, grabbing a Post-it pad and pen. A distraction. That was what I’d been missing.
“Address?”
She leaned against the doorframe, one hand on her belly and the other holding a thick cream-colored envelope. The fancy kind, laser-cut and wax-sealed.
“Dr. Marchetti’s office,” she said with complete disregard for my mental state. “Everything is on the envelope.”
I froze, pen hovered over the yellow Post-it, before standing to collect it. “When would you like it delivered?”
“As soon as possible. It’s for the gender reveal party next weekend. The rest of the invites went out three weeks ago.”
Seeing as I’d never tried nor wanted to have a baby, I didn’t know when most gender reveals happened, but seven months in felt pretty late.
With an advanced-age pregnancy and multiple miscarriages under her belt, however, I couldn’t blame Reagan for wanting to wait out possible complications before making any major announcements.
I opened my mouth to speak, but she stopped me with a raised palm.
She plucked her phone from her desk, pointing the head of it at me. “And before you judge, I am well aware baby reveals are tacky. But I’ve waited a long time for a baby, and damn it, I want the whole shebang.”
My lips curved into a smile.
“Not judging. I’m looking forward to the party.” I uncapped my pen. “What do you want on the recipient note?”
“Write…” She tilted her head, taking her time to answer. “I’m sorry for the last-minute invitation. I meant to hand-deliver it during our last appointment, but the pregnancy brain fog hit.”
I scribbled on the pad, not really focusing on what I was writing. “Got it.”
When I returned to my cubicle and peeled the sticky note off the pad, I realized I’d only written one word.
