Page 405 of Wicked Brutal

“I know.”

“Then why did you do it again?”

“Cause I speak French and Russian."

“You cannot speak both.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Okay. Say something.”

She takes a bite of her strawberry. “Grenouille.”

He closes his eyes. I laugh. “That doesn’t count.”

“Grenouille.”

“That’s frog.”

“I know.”

“That’s one word.”

“I know lots.”

“Then say something else.”

Piper looks at him. Then at me. Then down at my stomach. She abandons the argument and presses both hands against the curve beneath my dress. “Baby.”

Tobias points at her. “That’s English.”

“I know.”

“You’re hopeless.”

At five months, there’s no hiding this baby even if I wanted to. I don’t. I spent too much of my first pregnancy trying to disappear. This one gets dresses stretched over my stomach. Pictures. People touching my belly because I invite them to. Piper kissing it whenever she feels like it. Tobias talking directly into it in languages neither Ryan nor I understand because he thinks it’s hilarious that our unborn child might learn Russian before we do.

Piper presses her ear against me. “Is the baby awake?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ask.”

“Ask who?”

She lifts her head and gives me a look. “The baby.”

“The baby can’t answer me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s in my belly.”

“It has ears.”

“Yes.”

“And a mouth.”