Page 56 of A Season Of Sin

I snatch another cookie from the plate on her lap. “Thanks. It was the guys’ idea. They did it all.” I flash Wolf a smile.

They transformed his old bedroom into the nursery, and I didn’t lift a finger.

Oh. I have a little game for you…

From the little time you’ve known us, can you guess the theme they chose?

I’ll give you a hint…

Our social media viewers voted on it.

We asked for suggestions, and they pulled through. Then we picked our top ten favorites from the list, and they narrowed it down to one.

Was it…

A mechanic’s wet dream.

Forest animals.

Or

Tattooed Fairyland

If you guessed C, you’d be right. Wolf knows a tattoo artist, someone named Pixie, who looks as much like a fairy as you’d expect, down to the colorful hair and petite frame. She spent three days painting murals on our little one’s bedroom walls—unisex ones since we don’t know the gender—from tattoo-styled roses and toadstools to a friendly ogre representing Jace, a Wolf for you-know-who, and a mama bear for me, sitting on a stump reading Alice in Wonderland. As a child who often wanted to escape her life, that was my favorite book when I was little.

Jace and Wolf filled the nursery with jeweled-toned furniture and the coziest rug to match the whimsy vibes. I may or may not spend hours working in there in the rocking chair, molding it to my butt, and using my laptop that doesn’t fit well on my lap anymore. It’s part of my nesting. Or that’s what the internet says, according to Jace, the obsessive baby researcher.

Speak of the devil…

He joins us in the living room and sits down beside me.

Harmony carries on a conversation about the nursery with Wolf, whom she likes a lot more than Jace, who’s always been lukewarm to her. To put it mildly, Jace thinks Harmony is a spoiled wildcat who uses me. I don’t see it that way, as she’s my sister, and Wolf plays Switzerland where our families are concerned. As long as they’re nice to him, that’s all we care about. Harmony has been the most welcoming of our unconventional relationship.

I rest my head on Jace’s shoulder, and he kisses me there. “How ya feelin’, babe?”

A yawn escapes me before I can suck it back in. “Fine.”

“You don’t sound fine. You sound tired.”

I rub my bump. “I am, but it’s Christmas.”

“Um. Hmmm,” he hums, not sounding convinced. “How’s our cub?”

“He or she is great.” I stifle a yawn.

“Are you ready for Rudy to be born?” he asks with a smile in his voice.

“Veto,” Wolf grumbles, rolling his eyes.

Jace flips him off, and Harmony chuckles at their bickering. It’s nonstop when it comes to baby names. We agreed we all must like the name, but I must like it most, since I’m the one working the hardest. Jace, being Jace, can’t stop blurting whatever names he likes from the baby website he’s constantly scrolling. We’re almost through the Rs. At least we’re more than halfway through the alphabet. So far, we haven’t landed on a single one.

“Can we not do this today? Please,” I beg, not wanting this to end up how it usually does, with Jace’s feelings hurt when we can’t agree on a name, and Wolf licking Jace’s wounds, and by wounds, I mean ass. That always seems to cheer Jace up.

“As far as I’m concerned, sweet girl, you can decide,” Wolf says.

Jace snorts. “Veto.”

“Kid.”