Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 245 – Girl’s Night

About an hour later Delia and Emma pull up to the cabin, Delia shrieking and running for me as soon

as the car is in park. I throw my arms around my bestie as soon as she pounds up the stairs to the

cabin, laughing as she mumbles greetings into my hair. My sister takes a more sedate approach,

carrying the pizzas, though her smile is just as big.

“Come in, come in!” I say, waving everyone into the house. Alvin runs for his aunties, giving them big

hugs and kisses, while Bridgette hangs back a little, shy. The three have met, of course, but not in such

a casual setting. I give her a wink, knowing that she’ll like them. And if Bridgette needs anything right

now, it’s certainly some girlfriends.

Emma places the pizzas down on the table, chattering happily to Alvin, while Delia takes a large bottle

of wine out of her purse and sets it on the table. As she goes to open it, though, Alvin lets out a little

shriek of protest.

“What,” Delia asks, looking between me and my son. “What did I do?”

I just shrug, looking to Alvin.

“I am the butler!” Alvin says, marching over to her. “That is my job!”

Delia laughs, stepping away from the bottle of wine and holding the wine opener out. “Have at it, little

man,” she says, smirking. “I’ll take a butler any day of the week.”

Alvin snatches the wine opener out of her hand and climbs up on a chair, his face very haughty and

confident. But, when confronted with the bottle of wine itself, his face falls a little.

“Mama?” he asks, looking up to me for help.

I hide my amusement and just shrug. “Butlers figure it out, kid,” I say, giving him a wink and herding the

ladies into the living room, taking the pizza boxes as I go.

Delia resists a little as I nudge her forward. “Is he going to be able to figure that out?” she whispers,

looking back at Alvin unfolding the corkscrew and looking at it with confusion. “I really want a glass…”

“He’s a genius,” I respond with a shrug. “So, maybe. Give him a chance.”

She sighs and flops down on the couch next to Emma, taking her hand. Bridgette settles into an arm

chair across from us and I plop down on the floor next to the coffee table, opening the pizza and

handing slices around. Everyone begins to eat and talk together, and there’s instant camaraderie.

I keep an eye on Bridgette as we chat, careful to keep the conversation away from her for the time

being until she grows more comfortable. Instead, I tell all three about our time in the forest – about the

magic, and meeting the wise woman, and our healing. Of course, some details I keep to myself, but it

takes awhile to tell anyway.

About half way through my telling Alvin does indeed deliver us our glasses of wine, a few pieces of cork

floating in each. I smile at him, proud of my boy for figuring it out, and place an order for a creative

desert to give him something to do. He dashes back into the kitchen, eager to see what he can find.

“That sounds incredible, Evelyn,” Emma says, shaking her head at me and running her finger along the

edge of the wine glass. “Astral mates. Who ever would have thought it was a thing.”

“I know,” I say, grinning. “Honestly it puts my heart at ease. I had this nagging hesitation that he would

never be as attracted to me as he was to Amelia but, as it turns out,” I shrug, “I had him the whole

time.”

“Lucky girl,” Emma says, shaking her head and glancing at Delia. “So few people ever find their mates,

let alone their astral mate.”

“Is it possible?” Bridgette begins, curious, and speaking her question as she thinks it, “for lesbians to be

mated?”

The room goes a little quiet and Bridgette gasps, blushing and covering her mouth with her hand. I

think she realizes all at once that Delia and Emma had never really confirmed to her that they were

together, or, indeed, that they identify as lesbians. I c**k my head and raise my eyebrows at Delia,

letting her handle this one.

“It’s okay, Bridgette,” Delia says, giving her a big smile. “I’m actually bisexual, though Emma here,” she

gives her girlfriend a big smile, “is a lesbian. And yes, it’s possible for women to be mated to each other

– it’s not a strictly biological function.”

“No mating bond has snapped into place between us,” Emma picks up. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t.

And it doesn’t mean that we won’t love each other if we doesn’t.”

“What about you, Bridgette,” Emma asks, turning her head to the side and looking at her fondly. “Have

you ever felt anything close to a mating bond with anyone?”

“No,” she says, looking down at her nearly-empty wine glass and shaking her head. “I mean, I loved

Rafe a lot. But…nothing ever snapped into place between us. Like, I’d have felt it, right?”

“Maybe,” I say, giving a little shrug. “Some people say they feel it. I personally did not, though…” I

glance at Emma, wondering if it’s an awkward topic for her, “well, I met Victor on an evening when I

was having a lot of complicated emotions. So I may have missed it.”

Emma looks away for a moment, but doesn’t say anything. But when she looks back at me I give her a

little smile. It’s water under the bridge for me, and I hope it is for her too.

“Butler!” I call, breaking the semi-awkward silence. “We need refills on this wine!” I call, though my

glass is still mostly full – I’ve only taken a sip or two.

“On it!” he calls back, and I hear his little feet scurrying in the kitchen.

“Bridgette,” Delia says, leaning forward a little. “What’s going on with you and Rafe?”

“Oh,” she says, looking down into her cup as Alvin comes running in, the big bottle of wine balanced

precariously between his two little hands. He pours her glass first and she mumbles her thanks to him.

“Um, we broke up,” she says awkwardly. “He was…lying to me. About a lot of stuff.”

“Like what,” Delia says eagerly, her eyes going wide. Delia loves a gossip, and Bridgette responds

warmly to her genuine interest, telling her all of the details that I know and some extras. My eyes go

wider as I hear about some things that Rafe did to her that dig his grave a little deeper with me, though

I do my best to keep my face impassive.

“Wow,” Emma says, blinking when she’s finished. “And I thought Joyce was bad.”

“Joyce is bad,” I insist, looking at her sternly. “There’s enough room on the Bad Alpha boat for all of

them, don’t let any of them off the hook.”

“Who is Joyce?” Bridgette asks, curious, and Emma tells her a shortened version of her own horrible

marriage. Bridgette is suitably horrified by what she hears, but I see a brightness in her as she listens. I

think it’s actually quite good for her to hear that someone else has had a similar experience. I make a

mental note to myself to build these kinds of sharing experiences into my future programs for women,

because if two women I know and love had had such a terrible time romantically, they certainly can’t be

alone.

We carry on like this late into the night, finishing most of the pizza and the wine and polishing it all off

with Alvin’s “Marshmallow Surprise,” which is just marshmallows with a twizzler stuck through the

center. I know it’s time to go home, though, when my little boy curls up next to me and starts to snooze.

“I think that’s it for me,” I say quietly, wrapping an arm around my boy. “I want to get him back in his

bed. He’s slept in so many strange places lately.”

Emma and Delia mumble their agreement, gathering their things and giving Bridgette and I kisses

goodbye as they head out the door. Then, once they’ve headed out, I start to help Bridgette clean while

Alvin sleeps on the couch.

“Um, Evelyn?” Bridgette says quietly as I put the dishes in the sink. “Do you think I could…come home

with you?”

“What?” I ask, shocked. I stare at her for a second and then blink myself back to the present, my mind

whirling. “I mean, Bridgette, you’re always welcome, but why?”

She bites her lip and looks down at the floor.

“Oh, Bridgette,” I sigh, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t want you to be disappointed in me,” she whispers, her voice hitching a little. “But…but I want to

see him. I’ve thought a lot about it – more than just tonight.”

“Bridgette,” I say, putting a finger under her chin and making her look at me. “You never have to worry

about disappointing me. But – after everything he put you through – is this really the healthiest thing for

you to do?”

She shrugs noncommittally. “I don’t know. But…I still have feelings for him, Evelyn. And I don’t honestly

know if they’re real, or if I’ve built them up in my head…and I think I need to see him to figure it out. For

closure? Or to confirm if they really are real? I don’t really know, but this just feels right.”

“I understand that,” I say softly. “Bridgette, of course you can come, if you feel strong and ready

enough.”

She gives me a tentative smile.

“Just be careful,” I say, looking at her with my heart in my eyes. “Don’t let him belittle you, okay? You go

to get what you want, and don’t worry about him.”

She nods, setting her shoulders square. “Okay,” she says. “I think I can do that.”

“Okay,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Then let’s hit the road.”

Bridgette gives a little squeak of excitement and runs to the bedroom to grab a few things. As she

goes, I passively hope that one of the things she’s grabbing is the shotgun, but I dismiss the thought.

Instead, I take my phone out of my back pocket and send a quick text to Victor.

Evelyn: Get Rafe cleaned up. Bridgette is coming home. I don’t want him to look like crap for her sake,

she deserves better.

A few minutes later, a reply comes through. No words, though – just an emoji of a wolf next to one of a

bathtub. I smirk and put my phone back into my pocket.

I guess our night isn’t over quite yet.