Free MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 2: (Motorcycle Club Romance Novel) by Bink Cummings

from the hospital in. Little
does anybody know, including Marshall, is that I want to have an at home birth
in a giant tub of water with a midwife. I can’t think of a better way to bring
a child into this world. Shit, I grew up being taught not to retreat to the
hospital for most things, maybe that’s why having an at home natural water
birth appeals to me so much. I spoke to my midwife about it at my last
appointment. Marshall was thankfully detained, which meant I could speak freely
with her. Now that I’ve set the idea in motion, she said she’d handle the rest.
My only worry is carrying this baby and delivering her in a timely, preferably
not overdue manner. Pushing a ten-pound overcooked turkey out of a hole the
size of a walnut is not my idea of a good time. A seven pounder seems way more
appealing, even though it’s still gonna suck.
    After shopping and buying god knows
how many outfits for Gabe and none for my daughter, I refused to start that
nesting syndrome thingy that I’ve read about. I’m sure it’ll come eventually. However,
it’s too early to start now. After that, we ate dinner at a fancy Italian
eatery. Not that it mattered much because I threw it all up twenty minutes
after I’d ate. And now we are here. Jezebel found the bar on her phone, and we
decided to give it a go. It’s like a fifties diner meets dance club; it’s
unique in its own sock-hop mashup kinda way.
    Dialing back into the women’s
conversations, I see Pixie pointing rather obviously to a man sleeved in ink
like her, standing by the bar with a blue Mohawk and skull plugs in his ears,
the size that you could fit a cherry through.
    “I’m gonna start doing those at the
shop,” she yells. “I already do piercings. It only seems natural to stretch
ears too.”
    Now is a good as time as ever to
bring up what I’ve been dying to talk about all day. “Do you think Big’s old
lady would approve of you stretching his ears out? Maybe he needs a new look.”
    I meant it to be funny, but all the
women’s faces snap to mine, with obvious shock, eyes bugging and mouths gaping.
Rubbing the edge of the table with my fingers occupies my attention just enough
to keep me from reaching out and lifting Debbie and Pixie’s jaws off the table
before they start to drool.
    I shrug, stop rubbing, and lay my arm
across the back of the booth, trying to appear more relaxed than what I am. On
the inside, I’m fucking dying, and I want to slaughter my best friends for not
warning me. Shame on them bitches.
    “What? No?” I mock, lifting a single
brow.
    Nearly a minute passes before anyone
gets enough courage to stop sucking back their alcohol and staring at me to
actually sputter a coherent word.
    “You know Big has a woman?” Debbie
finally breaks the seal. Way to go Debbie, being the bravest.
    “I do,” I casually bob my head with
an impassive tone. “What I don’t understand is how I found out from him instead
of you all,” my head nods at each and every one of them in order, my brows
reaching an all-time high, peeking into my hairline.
    “We didn’t think you’d want to know,”
Pixie adds.
    “Really?” I’m shrill. “A man I grew
up with finds himself an old lady, and I don’t want to know?” Now this time I
can’t feign my indifference, I’m pissed at them.
    “Bink,” Debbie reaches over Pixie to
me. With her hand landing on my knee, she gives it a loving squeeze. “You know
we didn’t tell you to be respectful to you. Just like we haven’t told our guys
you are pregnant because we knew that was important to you.”
    “Did Big or the brothers tell you not
to tell me?”
    Candy Cane gasps, throwing her hand
over her mouth. “How could you think so low of us? We are sisters, and as much
as we love our old men, we don’t always listen to them. And Tripper would never
ask me to hide that anyhow. We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you
upset.”
    I am upset. He