EB Chapter 63 Part 2
Eva
"Well, it is! A party for… for us! To celebrate you being back! And everything being wonderful!" She gestured vaguely around the kitchen, her eyes sparkling with an almost manic energy.
My gaze swept over the items again. Miniature pacifiers, tiny plastic bottles, a banner that read 'Oh Boy! Oh Girl!'. This was no ordinary party. This was a baby shower.
"Katie." My voice dropped to a near whisper. "Are you throwing me a surprise baby shower?"
Her face paled. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, no sound emerging. Her eyes darted around the room, as if searching for an escape route.
"You know I hate surprises," I repeated, the words a low thrum of irritation. "And I told you, no baby showers. No fuss. Not yet."
She wrung her hands. "But… it's a surprise! And it's a good one! And it's for all the babies! And you deserve it, Eva! You're having so many!"
"I'm having a lot of babies, yes, I'm aware." My voice was laced with sarcasm. "But a party? Without my knowledge? And everyone is in on it?"
Her bottom lip quivered. "It was just supposed to be a little thing! Just family! Just… us!"
"Just us," I echoed, my eyes narrowing. "Katie, who put you up to this?"
She wrung her hands again. "No one! It was my idea! Mostly! Well, we all talked about it. It's a good idea! It's fun!"
The kitchen door swung open, and Brandon strode in, his typical arrogant swagger softened by an odd, almost bashful grin. He held a plate piled high with what looked like miniature cupcakes, each topped with a tiny pink or blue frosting swirl. He wore a t-shirt I hadn't seen before. It was bright pink. Across the chest, in bold white lettering, that screamed: 'BABY DADDY'.
My jaw dropped. Brandon, the epitome of masculine bravado, wearing pink. And not just pink, but a shirt proclaiming his new status as 'Baby Daddy'. And he didn't so much as blink. He simply offered a sheepish shrug.
"Brandon," I breathed, the name a whisper of disbelief. "Your shirt."
He glanced down at it as if he'd forgotten he was wearing it. "Oh, this? Yeah. Katie gave it to me. Said it was… appropriate." He looked to Katie for confirmation, a nervous tremor in his usual cocky posture.
Katie, still looking caught in the act, squeaked, "It is! You are! All of you are!"
"Appropriate?" My voice rose, the quiet irritation escalating into full-blown alarm. "Brandon, you despise pink. You once spent three days trying to exorcise a pink sock that accidentally got mixed in with your laundry. And you're wearing a 'Baby Daddy' shirt without a word of complaint?"
He shrugged, offering one of the cupcakes to me. "It's for a good cause, Eva. And it's just for today. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Probably not after." He tried to wink, but it came off as a nervous twitch.
"Just for today?" My gaze flickered to Katie, then back to Brandon. "What, precisely, is happening today that requires you to be walking around in a pink 'Baby Daddy' shirt without protest?"
"Well…" Brandon started, then his eyes flickered to Katie, who was shaking her head vigorously. He clamped his mouth shut.
I turned my full attention to Katie. "Katie, tell me. Now."
She wrung her hands again. "It's a surprise, Eva! A really big, important surprise! And if I tell you, it won't be a surprise anymore!"
"If you don't tell me, Katie, I swear I will turn you into a particularly squeaky garden gnome." My voice was low, laced with a very real threat. My magical aura hummed around me, making the silverware rattle on the counter.
Her eyes widened, a flicker of genuine fear in their depths. "Okay! Okay! It's… it's a party! A gender reveal party! And a… a sort of… commitment party!"
"A gender reveal party?" My voice was sharp, cutting through her frantic confession. "You know I hate those. And a commitment party? What commitment, Katie? We're already committed. I'm carrying their children."
Before Katie could answer, the kitchen door opened again. Vincent and Vlad entered, their expressions mirroring Brandon's earlier mix of nervous excitement and forced nonchalance. Vincent carried a delicate silver tray laden with champagne flutes. Vlad, usually impeccable, had a smudge of what looked like blue frosting on his cheek.
My eyes narrowed, sweeping over them. "Vincent. Vlad. Care to explain why my kitchen looks like a pastel explosion? And why you both look like you're trying to hold in a sneeze?"
Vincent, always the refined one, cleared his throat. "Eva, my dear. A pleasant homecoming." He offered the tray. "Champagne?"
"Don't you dare offer me champagne, Vincent. I'm pregnant with all of you guys’ children." I pointed to Vlad's face. "What is that on your cheek?"
Vlad's hand shot to his face. He wiped it away with a practiced nonchalance, but his sharp features were uncharacteristically flustered. "Just… a minor culinary incident. Sampling the… refreshments."