There’s no need to think or even worry about it. There’s plenty of food on this island, but only one omega I want in my arms.
32
JENNIFER
Anna's on the phone, mid-sentence about the restaurant's new pastry supplier when I shift on the sofa and the baby makes her feelings about this known immediately, one firm kick to the ribs that I have come to understand means she has opinions about my posture and is not going to keep them to herself.
"Hold on," I say.
I readjust. She settles. I look at the ceiling for a moment and then turn my head toward the window, where the water is doing its late afternoon thing, the light coming off it in that particular way it has at this hour, gold and a little excessive, the way the island always does everything, without apology and with complete commitment.
"Sorry," I say. "She's redecorating."
"What did she do?" Anna says.
"Kicked my ribs," I say. "She has opinions about how I'm lying down."
"She gets that from somewhere," Anna says.
“Not me!”
Anna laughs. I hear the background noise behind her shift, the particular restaurant-adjacent chaos that follows my sistereverywhere, then I hear a baby cry and someone speaking in French. It must be one of her alphas.
“Not long to go,” Anna says.
"Six weeks," I say. "Give or take. She'll come when she decides to and not a moment before."
"She really does take after you," Anna says.
"Don't start," I say.
"Are you still thinking of staying on the island?"
“Yes,” I say. “There is a doctor suite on the island. And they’ve been fixing it up, so it’s exactly how I want it to give birth in.”
“That sounds lovely. Jennifer, I’m really happy and proud of you.”
“It is. It’s better than any hospital I’ve ever been in,” I say.
"Sorry," she says. "The supplier situation is a disaster and Laurent is trying to fix it by being very large and calm in the direction of the problem."
"Does that work?”
"Surprisingly often," she says. "Jennifer. I want to come."
"I know," I say.
"Not just for the birth," she says. "Before. I want to see you before she arrives. I want to see the island and the herb garden and this bay tree you keep talking about and I want to sit in the kitchen you love and drink wine with you and your three extremely large alphas and I want to do that before everything changes."
"Come then," I say.
"The restaurant," she says.
Running your own restaurant is tough, especially when you have two kids. Sure, my niece can do things for herself and will be in middle school soon, but she just had a baby.
"Come when you can," I say. "Or I'll come to you before she arrives. We'll make it work."
“For sure!”