French Roast (The French Twist Series Book 4) Read online

  I made a face to express my displeasure with his impudence. “Don’t get me wrong, it would be torture not to tell them, but,” I faltered, searching for the right words, “the last time was so unexpected. I had turned their lives upside down, first by announcing our engagement after knowing you for five weeks, then by telling them we had to get married six months early to keep you from being deported and then—”

  He smiled wryly. “You had to tell them you got knocked up on our honeymoon.”

  “Announcing this over a speakerphone while my brother and his wife were listening didn’t make it much better.”

  “Ouch.” Louis winced. “I had forgotten about that part.”

  A likely story.

  “We’ve given them five years of relative calm.” Because life with me was never completely calm. “This time we won’t catch them off guard and, if I tell them in person, I can get to see the joy in their faces, instead of having to imagine the astonishment they must have registered across a phone line. It would be a nice change.”

  He held my hand and whispered softly, “As you wish.”

  I nearly swooned. It had been ages since he had made a Princess Bride reference. His bucolic upbringing had made him my very own farm boy, after all.

  “Now, mon coeur,” he began to kiss my neck, “as Luc is safely snoozing away, why don’t we make good use of our time and ensure we get a positive result next week?”

  “You know it doesn’t work that way, right?”

  “The devil is in the details, isn’t it?” He started to unbutton my blouse. “Regardless of my grievous error in biology, we could certainly use the practice.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Bluey.” I removed my blouse and straddled him, preparing to relieve him of all the unnecessary clothing.

  Just as things were really heating up, we heard, “Daddy! There’s a monster under my bed!” coming from down the hall.

  “I can’t believe it.” Louis sighed. “Cock blocked by my own son.”

  Typical Louis—get a girl all hot and bothered and then leave her speechless.

  Thanksgiving dinner was in full swing and the joy in the room was almost overwhelming. It had been years since my siblings and I had all been together for a holiday and it was the first time our children had been old enough to run amuck together. Poor Stephan was at a small disadvantage (being younger and having shorter legs than the rest of his posse), but what he lacked in motor skills, he made up for in spirit.

  The adults were in the kitchen, cleaning up the appetizer dishes and putting the finishing touches on the main course. (All but Maya, of course. Her Highness had to put her feet up at every possible interval.) Since Kate and Nick were a well-oiled turkey making machine, Charlie and I had been relegated to dishes, Zoe was busy perfecting her salmon, and Louis and Devon were in charge of rearranging the furniture in the dining room. Our little experiment with having a separate kids table went awry when the little ones became drunk with power and started a food fight. Now they had to return to the watchful eyes of their parents. (Nobody stained Kate’s rug and got away with it!)

  “You missed a spot, Syd.” Charlie handed a plate back to me. “Is everything okay? You don’t usually make such rookie mistakes.”

  I bit my lip. “Everything’s great.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? You look like you’re in pain.”

  He wasn’t wrong. I had been dying to tell everyone the good news (the stick turned blue!), but our boisterous younger generation had kept at least one adult running at all times during the first course. It had been literally impossible to have everyone’s attention at once.

  “I’m fine, Charlie. I promise!”

  Zoe chose this moment to poke me in the side. “When have you ever been fine?”

  Thankfully Charlie anticipated his klutzy sister and caught the plate I was about to drop.

  Zoe laughed. “Why are you so jumpy, Syd?”

  Knowing I was about to burst with our good news, I quickly scanned the kitchen, assessing everyone’s whereabouts. Fate must have been smiling on me, since all hands were free of tasks at that very moment.

  “Huddle up!” I barked.

  Six pairs of eyes stared at me like I was crazy. Well, crazier than normal. I knew absolutely nothing about sports (and neither did my siblings), so my coach-like remark was totally off, even if we were smack in the middle of football season.

  I smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, guys. I really want to tell you something and I’ve been trying to find the right time.”

  Louis handed me a towel. “Don’t you mean we?”

  I quickly dried my hands, so I could smack my cheeks Home Alone style. “I’m so sorry, Bluey. Yes, I mean, we.”

  Kate’s smile was enormous. “Does this mean—”

  Nick took his wife’s hand. “Shhh. Let them tell us.”

  “Right.” Her grin didn’t waver. “Of course.”

  I looked at Louis before making eye contact with each of my loved ones. “I’m pregnant!”

  I barely made the “T” sound before Kate started squealing. Suddenly, the room erupted into a chorus of congratulations, hugs and back slapping. (Boys will be boys.)

  Zoe squeezed my hand. “When is the baby due?”

  I swept my gaze to Louis, thinking he might like to answer this one.

  His grin told me I was right. “July twelfth. He or she will be an early birthday present for me.”

  I nodded. “Happy birthday to you.” I had to pinch myself that he was finally excited about becoming a dad again. I thought it would never happen.

  “What did Mom and Dad say?” Kate asked breathlessly.

  “I haven’t told them yet.”

  Kate and Charlie exchanged surprised glances.

  “Why not?” Charlie scratched his head. “There aren’t any surprises this time, are there?”

  Nick’s eyes widened. “Are you having twins?”

  Zoe was closest to him, so she had the honor of smacking him in the stomach.

  “What?” Nick moaned. “Twins run in Louis’ family, so it was a valid question.”

  Louis chuckled. “You’re right, Nick, they do. Everyone can relax; we’re only expecting one—what is it you guys say?—bundle of joy?”

  Kate’s brow furrowed. “Why are you waiting to tell them?”

  “I thought it would be nice to tell them in person.”

  Charlie grinned. “Because it won’t be a total shock this time?”

  I rolled my eyes at my brother. “Mock all you want. This is important to me.”

  Kate pulled me in for another hug. “I think it’s nice, sweetie.” I buried my head in her long blond hair, feeling just as comforted as I used to at eight years old. Kate always had my back.

  I sprung back from Kate, slapping my hands to my face once more. “I forgot to bring Maya in here before making the announcement.”

  “Don’t worry, Syd,” Devon soothed. “I’ll go get Her High—I mean, my wife.” He had the grace to look embarrassed before he exited the kitchen.

  Kate giggled. “I love him.” She turned to take one last look at her partner in Maya-insulting crime and gasped. “Syd, you have to see this.”

  Charlie and I lost no time in joining her at the entrance to the living room.

  “Oh, my,” I breathed.

  Maya was sitting on the couch, literally covered in children. She had managed to prop her legs on the ottoman, but those little ones had situated themselves in every available nook and cranny of her personal space. Luc had scored the plum seat on her lap, while Sam and Ginny flanked her on each side and Stephan tried to climb on her back from behind.

  Nick came up behind his wife, resting his arms around her waist. “What are we watching?”

  Kate elbowed him in the stomach and pointed.

  “Dude.”

  Hearing Nick’s remark, Zoe and Louis came running over to behold the spectacle. In the span of thirty seconds, the six of us witnessed at least ten different emotions
play across Maya’s face. Fear, disgust, annoyance, wonder, happiness, you name it! It was all there. She finally settled on annoyance with a side of fear and fixed Luc with a stern stare. He solved this problem by planting a huge kiss on her perfectly blushed cheek.

  We uttered a collective “aww” while Maya glared at us with all her might.

  Devon’s apparent detour to the bathroom brought him back to the living room just in time to witness this bizarre turn of events. His gaze traveled from his wife over to her live studio audience and back to his wife, clearly confused as to what had transpired.

  He addressed no one in particular with, “Did I miss something?”

  “Nope.” Luc assured him. “Just Auntie Maya pretending to be mad again.”

  “Do you think she’ll be mad when she finds out Auntie Syd is pregnant again?” Sam inquired.

  “That would take the attention away from her,” Ginny reasoned.

  Holy crap! Those kids are far too intelligent for their own good.

  “Yeah!” Stephan yelled. His new favorite word was often yelled out at random intervals, but this time it fit the bill perfectly.

  Maya regarded me with undisguised derision.

  “Surprise…” I croaked.

  She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know, Syd, just once I would like to find out about your pregnancy from you.”

  Shit. Six years ago—at Thanksgiving dinner, no less—Maya was informed that I was pregnant by my sister (with the aid of a most unladylike expletive) as I sprinted for the bathroom. She was behaving like a total bitch at the time, but this fact hadn’t reduced the amount of guilt I felt for not telling her myself.

  I approached my sulking friend and sat next to her, scooping Ginny into my lap, so I could be close enough to have a private conversation. Well, at least a conversation away from the rest of the adults.

  “I’m really sorry, Maya. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know you didn’t,” she responded. “You have a bad case of CRS.”

  I laughed at her mention of my dad’s made-up disease.

  Luc frowned. “Mommy, what’s CRS?”

  Maya chose this moment to jump in with her trademarked honesty. “Your mom can’t remember sh—”

  “Stuff!” I exclaimed. “I can’t remember stuff.”

  “Okay, kids, it’s time for dinner!” Kate trilled. She had always possessed impeccable timing. Then again, it was pretty much a given that Maya would say something inappropriate, so Kate was simply invoking preventative measures.

  I smiled as I watched them scamper to the bathroom to wash their hands. Then I turned to my potty-mouthed friend and admonished, “You have to clean up your act.”

  “Why?” she scoffed. “My child is going to have a colorful vocabulary.”

  I suppressed a smirk. “Have you discussed this with Devon?” Her husband was the very definition of propriety. He had actually put Kate to shame on more than one occasion, and that was saying something considering manners rank very high on her list of priorities.

  “He doesn’t make all the decisions.”

  Clearly,” I said drily, remembering the lime green and silver color scheme she had chosen for the nursery.

  “I want Coco to be free to express herself in whatever way she sees fit.”

  “Shut the front door!” I cried. “You’re having a girl?”

  Maya nodded and gave me a genuine smile for the first time in a long time.

  I wrapped my arms around her. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thanks, Syd.”

  To my great surprise, Maya pulled out of the hug to reveal tears streaming down her face. I quickly wiped them away with the sleeve of my sweater.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  The vulnerability evident in her face quickly vanished. “Absolutely. Why would you ask?”

  It seemed ignoring the emotion she had just shown was my best bet to live another day. To that end, I simply shrugged and said, “No reason.”

  “Well, at least one good thing has come out of all this, Syd.”

  Hoping I wouldn’t be sorry once she answered, I asked, “What’s that?”

  “You’ll be way fatter than I am.”

  Hook, line and sinker. Every. Single. Time.

  Chapter Six

  “And a partridge in a bear tree-ee-ee-ee!” Luc crooned, throwing his arms in the air for the big finish.

  I clapped furiously, grateful that along with my horrendous singing voice and misinterpretation of song lyrics, he had inherited my stellar dance moves. (And it never hurt to look pretty.)

  Christmas was just a week away, and Luc and I were trimming the tree to our favorite holiday album, A Christmas Together, by John Denver and the Muppets. With Louis trapped on the conference call from hell down the hall, we had to keep the volume down, but this did nothing to dampen our Christmas spirit.

  After an afternoon spent baking and icing gingerbread cookies, the resulting sugar high (quality control is of the utmost importance, people!) allowed us to decorate our seven foot Douglas fir with squeals of delight. Well, six feet of it anyway. We still needed Louis for the “tippy, tippy top” as Luc called it. Given my klutzy nature and new tendency toward dizzy spells, there was no need to tempt fate with a step stool.

  Luc and I reveled in unwrapping each ornament and telling its story before finding the perfect spot for it on the tree. In Luc’s case, this meant the closest available branch —whether or not it already contained an ornament. In my case, this meant examining the entire tree for color, material and theme distribution before selecting the optimum place for maximum visual appeal. Damn obsessive nature! At least it seemed to skip a generation.

  Following a five minute discussion about how he created the perfect paper snowflake for this year’s tree (involving the purple “skizors” and his friend Ana), I was seized with the depth of my adoration of this amazing little man.

  I swept him into my arms and murmured, “Do you have any idea how much I love you, my sweet boy?”

  Luc grinned from ear to ear, preparing to repeat the answer he had given so many times before. “So much, so much, so much! And a lot.”

  Luc had first said these magical words to me two years ago and I never tired of hearing them. His delivery may have improved, but he made sure to keep his original wording. Even at such a young age, he could see when he had a woman in the palm of his hand.

  I covered him in kisses. “That’s exactly right.”

  He wrapped his arms around my neck. “You’re the best mommy in the whole world.”

  “Well, I did learn from the best.”

  “Gramma is pretty awesome.”

  “Who’s awesome?” Louis inquired.

  “Daddy!” Luc jumped down and ran into his father’s arms. “You’re free!”

  “Until tomorrow, my son.” He squeezed Luc tightly. “Now, who is this awesome person of which you speak?”

  “It’s not you, silly.”

  Louis’ lip quivered. (He could teach my father a thing or two with his melodramatic acting skills.)

  “Well, you may just change your tune, my son, when you see this!” He pulled a box from behind his back and waved it with a flourish.

  Luc snatched the box out of his hands. “Lego Star Wars!” Further examination of the package caused his face to fall. “This isn’t the new one.”

  “True,” Louis conceded, “but it’s important to have an appreciation for the classics. Once you show me that you can handle this version, I’ll buy you the new one.”

  Luc pondered his father’s offer. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

  I covered my chortle with a cough. Clearly Luc had also inherited his father’s balls. (Oh, how I loved puns.)

  Louis feigned shock. “You don’t trust your father?”

  Luc giggled. “You sound just like Opa.”

  Clearly my father was still the master.

  “I know!” Luc ran into the kitchen and retu
rned with a piece of paper and a crayon. “Write down what you just said and we’ll both sign it.”

  “You want me to document the fact that you don’t trust me?”

  Luc smiled. “No, Daddy! Write down the part about buying me the new game after I beat the old one.”

  I was dangerously close to losing my composure. My son was proving to be far more intelligent than we gave him credit for. He had his father right where he wanted him.

  Realizing he had no other recourse, Louis complied with his son’s wishes. He then presented the paper to Luc with a flourish.

  “Thanks, Daddy.” Luc examined the document carefully. Wait for it…

  “Mommy?”

  “Yes?”

  He handed me the paper with absolute sincerity. “Did Daddy write what he was ‘posed to?”

  I cleared the giggles out of my throat before answering. “Yes, sweetheart, he did.”

  Luc accepted the paper back from me, painstakingly wrote his entire name (first name, both middle names and last name) below his father’s signature and sighed with satisfaction.

  “Let’s do this, Daddy!”

  And so the games began.

  After an hour in the clutches of Darth Maul and Count Dooku, I was ready for a break. Somehow I always ended up getting roped into their video game showdowns, despite my lack of interest. As mature as my husband was in most matters, he refused to give any advantage to our five-year-old son when it came to gaming. This often led to crying jags on Luc’s part, with Mommy coming to the rescue as the “stooge.” Oh, the things we had to do to keep our men’s egos in place.

  Louis stretched. “Okay, Luc. Let’s take a potty break and then we’ll see if we can get rid of Yoda.”

  Luc quickly covered my ears. “Daddy! Don’t say that in front of Mommy!”

  “What?” Louis threw his hands in the air. “We only promised to leave R2-D2 alone. Yoda is fair game!”

  Luc shook his head at his father. “We need to be gentle with her, don’t we? Since we’re men?”

  I carefully removed Luc’s hands from my ears and kissed the top of his head. “You always want to be a gentleman, my darling. Perhaps you can show your father how it’s done.” I jumped up from the couch before Louis could tickle an apology out of me. Those hands were quite effective in achieving his desired results—of both the PG and R variety.